TIN MAN
by Michmak
Summary: Greg learns some valuable lessons about friendship and family, as his fellow CSI’s rally around him to support him through a difficult time. CONTINUATION of Broken Boy and Video Killed the Radio Star - FINISHED
1. TOGETHER ALONE

II - TOGETHER ALONE  
  
Greg awoke in stages. First, he was aware of the hissing. Next, the steady beep-beep-beep of the heart monitor. Lastly, the pain. Although he could feel the IV needle poking into the top of his hand, he was getting no relief from the pain killers and medication it was feeding him. His chest felt like it had been crushed inward, and the resulting throbbing and burning made him want to cry out.  
  
Slowly opening his eyes, he became aware that he was not alone. In the chair, immediately to his right, Grissom was sleeping. Greg felt the weight of Grissom's arm on the edge of his hospital bed, and he tilted his head slightly to get a better view of the older man.  
  
In his sleep, Grissom's face looked remarkably child-like. The tenseness that Grissom always carried there during his waking moments was gone, smudged and softened, released by sleep. He was surprisingly happy that Grissom was still there.  
  
"Gris?" Greg's voice was hoarse. He experimentally tried to clear it, hissing in pain as the indrawn breath stretched the muscles of his chest. He felt like he was being ripped open.  
  
Grissom opened his eyes groggily, sitting up, concern immediately replacing sleep in his eyes. The tension in his face was back.  
  
"Greg? Are you alright?"  
  
"As good as can be expected, I suppose." Greg tried for a light tone, but his voice was bitter. "Listen, I'm thirsty and I need to pee. Can you get a nurse for me? I don't know where the call button is."  
  
Grissom quickly paged the nurse. "They brought you some food earlier, but you were sleeping. I let them take everything away except the green jello - just in case you wanted to eat something."  
  
Greg winced. "That's supposed to make me want to eat?"  
  
The nurse bustled into the room. "Well, it's good to see you're awake, Mr. Sanders. I assume you have to attend some personal needs, and I need to check a couple of things." She looked pointedly at Grissom as she began drawing the curtains. "I'm sure your friend here will be more than happy to wait outside. We'll only be a minute."  
  
Grissom looked at the nurse, backing slowly out of the room. "Is he allowed to eat anything? Can I get him something at the cafeteria?"  
  
The nurse looked at the chart. "He's only allowed soft foods and drinks right now. I see he has some jello here - he can eat that."  
  
"If I brought him up a milkshake, could he have that?"  
  
The nurse nodded. "Yes. A milkshake would be fine."  
  
Greg interrupted. "Chocolate." He smiled at Grissom weakly as the nurse finished drawing the curtain. "Thanks Grissom."  
  
* * * * *  
  
The lounge room was silent. Nick and Sara were side by side, sleeping on the small two-seater, Warrick was reading and Catherine was playing solitaire. It was a slow Thursday night, and everyone was grateful for it.  
  
Warrick sighed, dropping his magazine and stretching his arms over his lanky frame. "I wonder how Greg is doing?" Standing he walked over to Catherine, pointing out a move she had missed, before passing by to pour himself a coffee.  
  
Catherine bit her lip as she studied the cards. "Gil said he was still sleeping the last time he called. Hasn't woken up since we left." Sighing in frustration, she dropped her cards and pulled them all together, straightening them out as she began shuffling again. "Can you pour me one of those?"  
  
Warrick complied, sliding into the seat opposite Catherine. Catherine silently handed him the cards when he reached for them, and he quickly dealt a hand for each of them, plus a dummy. "Twenty-one okay for you?"  
  
Catherine nodded. "Fine." She watched as Warrick deftly worked the cards. "This is going to be so hard on Greg." She bit her lip as she tossed three cards. "Hit me."  
  
Warrick quirked an eyebrow at her. "I can't imagine it myself. If it was me, I mean." He replaced two cards in his hand with new ones. "And Grissom is really taking it hard. I've never seen him break down like that before. To be quite honest, I didn't think he could be emotional like that."  
  
Catherine smiled, softly. "Gil's a very emotional man. He just likes to pretend he's not, and he's gotten too good at hiding it. I was glad to see him - react - like that to Greg's situation."  
  
Nick had woken up and was listening to the tail-end of the conversation. His hand was lazily rubbing Sara's shoulder. "It was good. Greg needed to know that we're all there for him. Especially Grissom."  
  
Catherine looked at him curiously. "Why 'especially Grissom', Nick."  
  
"Because Greg really admires him. And for the longest time, he didn't think Grissom liked him all that much. It's just important he knows." He grinned suddenly. "Aren't you two supposed to be playing cards?"  
  
Warrick looked at Catherine and shrugged. "So much for that." Looking at his watch, he sighed. "4:30 am - another 3 ½ hours before shift ends, and another hour after that before we can visit Greg. This is the slowest night in the world."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Greg was almost asleep again by the time Grissom returned with the promised milkshake. "Sorry I was gone so long. Should have realized the cafeteria isn't open this late - or early - depending on your perspective. I went to Dairy Queen for you. And I even talked the nurse into giving me a bendy straw so you can drink easier. How are you feeling?"  
  
"Sore." Greg sighed. Grissom positioned himself gingerly on the edge of the bed, holding the milkshake for Greg.  
  
"That's to be expected. While the procedure you had wasn't major surgery, it's still pretty serious." Grissom paused as Greg sipped on the straw, noticing the brief stab of pain that crossed the young man's face as he tried to drink. "Maybe we should let this melt a little more."  
  
Greg sighed in frustration. "I can't even sip a fucking straw. This really sucks, Grissom!"  
  
"No pun intended. Ba-da-bump!" Grissom's tone was grimly ironic, earning a small smile from Greg.  
  
"You don't have to stay with me, you know."  
  
"I know. But I want to."  
  
"It's not your fault I screwed up." Greg's tone was resigned. "I should have just refused to get drawn into that little competition."  
  
"You didn't screw up, Greg. You made what you thought was the right choice in that situation. That Edd guy was working the crowd - there was no way they were going to let you off the stage. I wasn't lying when I said you broke the case for us."  
  
Greg's smile was wobbly. "You're just saying that because I'm in the hospital."  
  
"No. I'm saying that because it's the truth. And when you get on your feet again and back to work, you'll have the opportunity keep solving cases."  
  
"If I ever get better." Greg's voice was so soft, Grissom barely heard it. "Maybe, they won't let me come back. Physically, I might not be up to it."  
  
Grissom's tone was firm as he responded. "They can't keep you from returning. You've just had a set-back here, that's all. You heard what Dr. Mellows told you earlier - there's no reason why you can't return to work eventually. With therapy and regular check-ups, you'll be back to normal in no time."  
  
"How can you say that? I'll never be normal again." Grissom was surprised at the sudden tears that flooded the young mans' eyes. "What's so normal about having a battery in your chest when you're my age?" Greg glared at Grissom bitterly. "Why me? Haven't I had enough to deal with?"  
  
Grissom slid from the side of the bed into his chair, pulling it closer to Greg. "We all have our demons, Greg. We all have our own crosses to bear. But you don't have to do this by yourself - you're not a martyr."  
  
Greg looked at Grissom, his face impossibly young. "I'm scared, Grissom."  
  
Grissom took Greg's hand in his own. "Of course you're scared. Who wouldn't be? But you have to be angry, too, Greg. Angry enough to not give up. I know you've been on your own for a long time now - I. I have too. But you know what I've learned? It's not good being by yourself. And I wasted a lot of years trying to convince myself I didn't need anyone. But I was wrong. I need Catherine, and I need Sara - Nick - Warrick. And I need you Greg. I meant what I said earlier. You're my family." He gripped Greg's hand tighter in his own. "And if you're my family, that means I'm yours."  
  
Greg didn't respond, and Grissom felt no need for further words. He simply sat there, watching over Greg as he drifted back into healing slumber, a small smile playing about his face.  
  
______  
  
Author's Note: I promise we'll get into an interesting case soon enough, but the first few chapters of this story will focus mainly on Greg and the team's reaction to his near miss. So expect a lot of angst and personal revelation. And let me know if you like what I'm doing. If the character growth isn't believable, I want to know. 


	2. HEART ATTACK

III - HEART ATTACK  
  
Warrick and Catherine were the first to arrive at the hospital after shift. Stopping at the gift shop, Catherine bought several magazines, a couple of Sci-Fi books and 'The Big Book of Crossword Puzzles.'  
  
Grissom smiled at them tiredly when they walked into Greg's room. Catherine walked immediately over to him, squeezing his shoulder, before turning to Greg.  
  
"Hey Greg. You're looking better."  
  
"Better than what?" Greg responded dryly.  
  
Catherine just grinned at him, and rolled her eyes. "I'm not going to answer that. You're just fishing for compliments again." Her voice was warm, and she quickly leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. "Seriously, though. It's nice to see you awake. And alert. How are you feeling?"  
  
Greg shrugged. "Why is that one of the first things everyone asks when they walk into a hospital room?" His tone was light, but Catherine saw the barely banked pain in his eyes. "I feel like an elephant stepped on my chest."  
  
Warrick looked at Greg in sympathy, his tone light and teasing. "An elephant, eh? So you're sore than."  
  
Greg had grunted and rolled his eyes, but a small smile lurked on his face. "As always Warrick, you are a master of understatement. Are Sara and Nick coming?"  
  
Warrick nodded. "Should be here soon. They needed to go back to Nick's place to feed the kitten, and Sara wanted to pick something up for you."  
  
Grissom stood and stretched. Anything happen last night?"  
  
"Nah. Slowest night in the history of CSI. Not one call. There is a God." Warrick grinned. "Sara slept the whole shift in the lounge."  
  
"You squealing on me to the teacher again, Warrick?" Sara's unusually chipper tone broke into the room. "Quit sucking up." She quickly walked over to Greg and kissed him on the cheek. "Hey, Greggo. We come bearing gifts."  
  
Behind her, Nick grinned. "I come bearing gifts - you made me carry everything." He grunted as he lowered a large Rubbermaid box to the floor. "Hi Greg."  
  
Sara laughed. "Ignore him, Greg. I'm the brains of this outfit. He's the brawn - kinda like a mule, only cuter." She quickly turned to the box at her feet, took off the lid, and started pulling items out of it. "I brought you some new sheets - see?"  
  
"You brought bed sheets? To a hospital?" Grissom's voice was carefully neutral as he cocked an eyebrow at Nick. Nick just shrugged and rolled his eyes, grinning.  
  
"Of course. Have you ever slept on hospital sheets, Grissom? They suck. They're bleached beyond belief and they're scratchy. I thought Greg would appreciate being comfortable while he's here." Sara smiled at the men, before she reached into the box again. "I brought you some pajamas, too. Hospital gowns are way to embarrassing. The ventilation may be good, but that's about it."  
  
Greg grinned as he saw the pajama bottoms. "Where in the world did you find Foghorn Leghorn pj's?"  
  
Sara shrugged. "If I told you, I'd have to kill you." She rummaged around in the box again. "There's some toiletries in here for you as well - shaving gear, TIGA Bedhead gel -" she teased, "and, we brought you a CD player."  
  
Nick interrupted. "And I made you a CD at work last night." He grinned as he reached into his jean jacket, and pulled the case out of his inside pocket, handing it to Greg. Greg looked at the songs Nick had burned, and smiled. "You are so morbid!"  
  
"I thought they were appropriate."  
  
Greg looked at the list again, reading the song titles aloud for the others in the room. "Heart Attack - Olivia Newton John; Don't Go Breaking My Heart - Elton John." He stopped as everyone started laughing, before beginning again. "Shot Through the Heart - Bon Jovi. Where Does My Heart Beat Now - Celine Dion?! Ugh. You're a sick man, Stokes."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Dr. Mellows was pleasantly surprised when he entered Greg's hospital room an hour later. All his friends who had waited so diligently during his surgery were with him, and Mellows noted with satisfaction the happy expression on Greg's face.  
  
"Hi Greg. You're looking good this morning. How do you feel?" He picked up Greg's chart, reading it quickly, before looking to the young man again.  
  
Greg shrugged. "I feel sore. My chest hurts, but I'll live." He sighed as the doctor picked up his arm, manually checking his pulse.  
  
Mellows nodded. "You were lucky your friends were so quick to get you to the hospital and also managed to find out what type of drugs you were injected with or we might not even have been having this conversation." He smiled gently at the young man. "I need to look at your incision. Do you want your friends to stay, or wait out in the hallway?"  
  
"They can stay." Greg sighed. "How bad is the scar going to be?"  
  
"Not that bad - it's fairly small, all things considered. About 6 - 7 inches." He pulled Greg's robe open, his fingers gently probing around the swollen tissue. "Does this hurt? How about this? I don't see any redness, which is good. We need to avoid infection. According to the readings the nurse gave me this morning, you had a couple of small shocks last night. Do you remember feeling them?"  
  
Greg shook his head blankly. "Shocks?"  
  
"From the implant. It will shock you if your heartbeat loses rhythm or speeds up - just like a real defibrillator does. By monitoring it, we can monitor you - make sure this is working for you. I gave a file to Mr. Stokes for you to read - but don't hesitate to ask me questions either. You were a little out of it when you first came too yesterday - I'm not sure how much you remember."  
  
"I remember enough." Greg's tone was resigned, but he smiled gamely when Sara moved closer to him, taking his hand. "When will I be able to get up - move around on my own?"  
  
Dr. Mellows smiled at him. "I don't want you to push anything just yet - you've been through a serious trauma. Normally, the implant surgery is just a day surgery, but in your case - well, let's just say it's a little more complicated. I would suggest today that you try sitting for short intervals. Depending on how you're feeling and how our tests run, maybe tomorrow you can start walking a little."  
  
"How long is Greg going to have to stay in the hospital?" Grissom had stepped forward, looking at Dr. Mellows expectantly. "If this is normally a day surgery, do you think he might be able to go home in the next couple of days?"  
  
Mellows shook his head. "I'd say Tuesday, at the absolute earliest. And that's only if he'll be supervised." He turned to look at Greg. "Do you live with anyone Greg? Do you have a roommate?"  
  
Greg shook his head. "No."  
  
Sara interrupted Greg before he could continue. "Greg, you're going to move in with us for awhile - we have a spare bedroom, so it's no problem."  
  
"I can't do that Sara." Greg blinked back his tears. "You and Nick - "  
  
"Already talked about it this morning on the drive over." Nick smiled at him. "So, we thought we'd move some of your stuff in when Sara moves over on Saturday. You're not going to need furniture or anything, so give us a list of what you want from your apartment, and we'll get it." He was standing beside Greg now, and reached out, shaking his foot gently. "Unless, you don't want to get out of here."  
  
"But it's such an imposition." Greg's voice was fretful.  
  
"It's only an imposition if we don't want you, Greggo." Sara's voice was gentle. "And we do - want you, that is. Besides, if it were any of us in the same situation, you'd be doing the same thing, and you know it."  
  
_______  
  
Author's note: Okay, okay - I swear I have an interesting case coming up for them to solve - really, really soon! The next chapter skips forward in time a little bit, but I really needed these first three to establish what was going on with Greg and where he was going to live during his recuperation. Next chapter, on with the crime! Oh, yeah - and I apologize after the fact for the chapter title - just messing with you all. Greg will be fine. 


	3. TIN MAN

Title: TIN MAN  
  
Author: Michmak  
  
Summary: A continuation of VIDEO KILLED THE RADIO STAR. Greg learns some valuable lessons about friendship and family, as his fellow CSI's rally around him to support him through a difficult time.  
  
Disclaimer: The only characters I own are the ones I create for the purpose of this story. All the rest? Not mine.  
  
______  
  
TIN MAN  
  
Grissom was sitting in Greg's hospital room, watching him sleep. It was 9:00 pm, and by all rights Grissom should be back at the station, working, but he had taken the night off.  
  
He was in no mood to work.  
  
Thankfully, no one had argued with him when he had told them to leave. Nick was dead on his feet, emotionally wrung out. It was always easy to read Nick, he wore his emotions and his heart on his sleeve, and this situation with Greg was killing him. Sara, who had wanted to stay, knew Grissom well enough to know that he needed time by himself with Greg, and had left with Nick promising to return as soon as they could.  
  
Warrick had offered to drive Catherine back to her place. After promising to keep everyone apprised if anything new happened, they had finally left him.  
  
And now, here he sat. Myriad thoughts and emotions floated through his head, but they all centered on the young man in front of him. The slight flickering under Greg's eyelids indicated REM - Greg was dreaming of something, and Grissom could only hope it was pleasant.  
  
Grissom stared at his hands, which were loosely draped over his knees. He could still feel the weight of Greg's hand in his as he had told Greg they were family, and he smiled softly as he remembered the stunned silence that had greeted him. Grissom hadn't had family in a long time. He had often thought he was oblivious to the need for deeper human interaction, but the last couple of years that belief had been overwhelmed by the need in Grissom's soul to establish relationships with the people he had come - almost against his will - to care so much about.  
  
The last few weeks had been an emotional rollercoaster for the normally reserved man. Two intense and draining cases in a row - the first culminating in near disaster and Nick's two-day suspension, this last almost causing Greg's death, had forced Grissom to confront his burgeoning emotions head-on. Like a man who had spent all his adult life in stasis, he was now emerging into the light, blinking at the suddenness of it all.  
  
His gaze drifted back to his young friend. Greg was going to have a rough go of it for the next little while, and Grissom vowed to himself that he would be there providing as much support as he could. He could not begin to imagine how he would react if he were in Greg's shoes - 28 years old, an implanted defibrillator forcing his heart to function properly, and an immediate future filled with the prospects of therapy, a fairly long recuperation, medical emergencies, and pain.  
  
He raised a hand to Greg's face, gently pushing the young man's hair from his forehead. His skin was excessively cool to the touch, and Grissom sighed as he reached down and adjusted the sheets more firmly around Greg's thin frame.  
  
Earlier that afternoon Greg had commented brokenly that he felt like the Tin Man, with no wizard in sight to fix him up. In a moment of blinding clarity, Grissom had known exactly what Greg had meant.  
  
Grissom was a tin man himself, but his rusted heart had finally started beating. And, while there was some pain, it was overshadowed by the sheer joy of living.  
  
________  
  
Author's Note: All my first chapters tend to be rather short, so bare with me. Please R&R - let me know what you think. 


	4. HATE CRIME

IV - HATE CRIME  
  
It was Wednesday night. Six days had passed since Oscar Fennil had been arrested for the K-ROX murders and attacking Greg. And in those six days, nothing had happened. Sara was sitting in the break room, fingers tapping restlessly, as she tried to read the paper. Well, that wasn't true, exactly. A lot of things had happened - this was Las Vegas, after all. There had been several cases the team had been called on for, but none had been challenging. A couple of murder-suicides, a prostitute who had been murdered by her pimp - all standard, all easily solved.  
  
Sara supposed that after the intensity of the last two cases, she should be happy that the last week hadn't been that challenging. And it wasn't as if she was hoping that an interesting murder would fall in their laps - she didn't want people dying to appease her boredom, after all. She just wanted something - interesting - to take her mind off Greg for a while.  
  
The last week had been hard on Greg, and by extension hard on everyone else. Even though he tried to put an upbeat face on his recuperation, tried to pretend that he was getting accustomed to the ramifications of the attack, he was struggling. Sara knew this was normal, and that Greg couldn't be expected to bounce back in a week, but she missed him. He played a good game, laughing with them, smiling at their jokes and gentle teasing, saying the right things at the right time. But his smile was sad, and his intelligent brown eyes, which Sara had always been able to read, were shuttered.  
  
Nick was with him at the hospital tonight - Greg's last night there before he was released. In the morning, Nick would be bringing him home. Sara was looking forward to having him arrive - she hoped that being in a more normal setting, Greg would be able to relax more, and come to realize that even though things had changed, he was still the same person.  
  
"You're going to wear out the table top with all that tapping, Sara." Warrick's voice was teasing, and his blue eyes flashed when Sara looked up at him.  
  
"Sorry Warrick. I'm just bored. And I'm thinking about Greg. He's coming home tomorrow."  
  
"Yeah, I know. Are we all still coming over for an early dinner?"  
  
Sara grinned. "That's the plan. Nick's got a pile of steak marinating in the fridge for the barbeque."  
  
"And you're okay with that? Dead meat in your fridge?" Warrick teased, laughing when Sara made a small moue of distaste.  
  
"I'm not thrilled. But what can I do - he's from Texas. I'll learn to live with it." They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes.  
  
"Have you named your kitten, yet?"  
  
"No." Sara sighed, frowning at Warrick when he started to laugh. "What? It's a big responsibility. I don't want to name her something she would be embarrassed by."  
  
"She's a kitten, Sara. She won't get embarrassed. What are you calling her in the meantime?"  
  
"Oh, you know. Kitty, puss-puss - uhm - Nick calls her furball." She started giggling.  
  
"That poor cat is going to have an identity crisis of magnificent proportions if you don't name her soon, Sara. She's gonna go all 'Garfield' on your ass." Warrick was trying to maintain a serious face, but his glinting eyes belied the attempt. He joined Sara in her laughter. When Grissom and Catherine walked into the lounge a few moments later, they were still gasping.  
  
Grissom merely cocked an eyebrow at them coolly, and Catherine grinned. "What did we miss?"  
  
"You don't want to know." Sara managed to get out, wiping tears of mirth from her face. She mock glared at Warrick, "But someone here has serious issues with Garfield." She smiled when she saw the file in Grissom's hand. "What? We finally caught a case?"  
  
"Two. Sara, you're with me - we got a multiple homicide at Magikal Holistic Health and New Age. I'll fill you in on the way. Warrick - you're with Catherine."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Grissom surveyed the scene before him, carefully wiping his face of emotion as he took in the carnage. To his left, Sara was hissing.  
  
"This is bad." They were standing inside a double wide glass doorway. Outside, several police cruisers were parked, lights still flashing. They strobed through the glass at regular intervals, bathing the scene in hues of red and blue. When the blue light rolled around the walls, the blood dripping from it appeared purple.  
  
Grissom slid along outside window, stepping over books and overturned tables. A glass display counter had been upended at the side of the room, its contents spilling out over the floor. He moved forward, trying not to step on anything, and looked at the older woman underneath the overturned display. Shards of broken glass clung to her face and hair, and her eyes, still open, stared blankly at Grissom in death.  
  
Sara had slowly started working her way around the other side of the room, her flashlight shining. "I have three over here, Grissom." On the floor, limbs flayed and tangled together in their rush to escape, two young men and a young woman lay in a vast pool of blood. All three had been shot in the head.  
  
As she stepped further into the room, she was overwhelmed by the smell of patchouli, musk, gardenia - a multitude of scents blending together and assaulting her senses. The underlying coppery smell added an extra discordant note. She flashed her light quickly over the incense sticks still burning and sighed.  
  
"Sara. I've found the last two." Grissom was in the far corner, and he turned towards her. "They've both been shot."  
  
Sara responded. "So that's all six." She shook her head. "Who did this?" Her question was rhetorical, and she looked at Grissom again. He had moved to the far wall, his flashlight illuminating the words painted there. 'Thou Shalt Have No Other Gods Before Me'.  
  
* * * * *  
  
On the other side of the city, Warrick and Catherine were taking pictures at their own crime scene, Warrick shaking his head at the carnage displayed before him. They were standing in the middle of 'Lifestyles', a popular alternative club. The walls, normally a flat black, dripped wetly with blood. A large disco ball hanging above the middle of the dance floor rotated slowly, refracting diamond glints of light in the large mirrors interspersed around the room.  
  
"So the manager - Mr. Anderson -showed up to open, and found the place like this?" Catherine's voice was soft, and she grimaced at the still smoldering forms in front of her. The smell of burnt flesh and leather hung heavy in the air.  
  
Warrick nodded. "Brass says the guy walks in, expecting his employees to be getting ready to open for the night, and found them engulfed in flames in the middle of the dance floor."  
  
Catherine had crouched down on her haunches, a gloved finger slowly running through the foam left by the fire extinguisher the manager had used to put out the fire. "So we have a pretty good idea who these guys are then?"  
  
"Yeah. Two bartenders, five waiters. We don't know who the eighth guy is, though. And we'll have to run a dental on them just to make sure. Anderson says he can't positively ID any of the bodies, although based on body-size, he can narrow it down for us." Warrick stepped forward and snapped a couple of pictures, the flashes reflecting back at them from the mirrors.  
  
Catherine stood up and walked around the men. "Whoever did this tied them up pretty tightly. See the wire around them?"  
  
Warrick nodded. "Looks like piano wire - thin, but strong. There had to have been more than one person though. I can't imagine eight grown men letting someone wrap them in piano wire and set them on fire without struggling."  
  
Brass walked over to them. "Warrick? Catherine? I have something you need to see. Mr. Anderson gave it to me." He walked back to the bar on the opposite side of the room, waiting for them to follow him. Mr. Anderson stood off to the side, his face stiff with shock and pain, talking softly to a police officer. Brass pointed at a letter lying on the bar.  
  
"He says it was nailed to his office door a couple of days ago. He doesn't know where it came from, or who sent it, so he stuck it in a file to hold in case he decided to go to the police."  
  
Catherine looked at the letter, noting that it was made of words and letters clipped from magazines and glued to a sheet of legal paper.  
  
" 'They must be put to death; their blood will be on their own heads.' " She turned to Warrick, her face dismayed. His was tight with anger.  
  
"Hate crime."  
  
_______ 


	5. PIG BLOOD

V - PIG BLOOD  
  
Doctor Robbins was not having a good night. He had fourteen bodies to examine, and eight of them were so badly charred the outer layers of skin would crumble like ash at the slightest touch. Catherine and Warrick had arrived back from their crime scene first, and Warrick had come down to speak with Robbins almost immediately.  
  
"We're pulling dentals for identification." He said in lieu of greeting. "Have the bodies arrived yet?"  
  
Robbins nodded grimly. "Yes they have. Since you're pulling dentals, I'll assume you caught the extra crispy case."  
  
Warrick grunted in assent. "Yeah. Catherine's up in the lab, pushing Vincent to start running the blood swabs. Have you started the autopsies yet?"  
  
"No. I was just getting there. I've called in a couple of the day shift coroners to help with the preliminaries. You looking for anything in particular from me?"  
  
"Yeah. We have several blood samples that were retrieved from the crime scene - smeared on the walls. If possible, we need to know how many of our guys could be potential donors. I mean, it's obvious they were set on fire but we need to determine if there were other injuries, like stab wounds or gunshots. Also, accelerant used to light these guys. Blood samples, any clothing or fibers that didn't burn."  
  
"The sun, the moon, the stars." Robbins tone was light, and he smiled. "It's a good thing you got back before Grissom."  
  
Warrick cocked an eyebrow. "Why? What did he catch?"  
  
"Six bodies." Robbins smiled grimly. "Of course, since you have eight, I guess that means you win."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"I think that's it for the blood swabs." Sara's voice was tired, and she shut her field kit softly, shaking her head. "Do you want me to take anymore photos, or can we get back to the lab?"  
  
Grissom ignored her. Instead, he walked back over to the wall, studying the words intently. Sara sighed, and she brushed her hands against her jeans as she joined him.  
  
"Grissom. What are you thinking?"  
  
"I'm thinking someone only read the Ten Commandments, but skipped the New Testament." His tone was contemplative, and he nodded at the wall. " 'Thou shalt have no other gods before me.' Fairly straight forward. But so is 'Love Your Neighbor as You Love Yourself.' You done with the swabs?"  
  
Sara rolled her eyes. "Yes, Grissom."  
  
"Well then, let's get back to the lab." Grissom picked up his field kit, and motioned for Sara to precede him. "Sara, how do you think Greg is doing? Emotionally?"  
  
Sara quickly looked over her shoulder at him. "I think he's happy to be getting out of the hospital. But he still has his days, you know? He's trying really hard, but I think he's depressed. I can't get him to talk about it, and neither can Nick." Throwing their field kits in the back of the Tahoe, Sara ran a frustrated hand through her hair. "I'm worried about him, Grissom. He's cutting himself off."  
  
Grissom sighed. "I've been thinking the same thing. But I don't know him as well as you do, so I wasn't sure."  
  
"Well, one thing that doesn't help is the forced inactivity. I don't think it's good for him. Don't get me wrong, obviously he can't go out and run a marathon tomorrow but he's got nothing to do and it's driving him crazy. He has the whole entire day to think about his operation, the implant, whether he'll get clearance to drive again, if things will ever get back to normal for him - it's unrelenting. He needs something to take his mind off it for a while."  
  
"I wonder if Dr. Mellows would clear him to come back for lab work only?" Grissom was talking more to himself than Sara, but she didn't mind. "If we kept an eye on him, made him rest at regular intervals - it might be good for him." He suddenly looked at Sara, eyes blazing. "What do you think?"  
  
"Do you want this for Greg or for Catherine? I know she's on the verge of maiming Vincent." Sara's tone was teasing. Grissom smiled.  
  
"I want this for Greg. But if it makes Catherine happy as well, who am I to complain. Besides, I don't blame her for wanting to hurt Vincent. He's no Greg in the lab."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Warrick was just leaving autopsy when Grissom came in. "Hey, Warrick. When did you guys get back?"  
  
"About an hour ago." Warrick was holding several bags in his hand, the charred fibrous remains of clothing carefully labeled and separated into each one. "I was just heading up to the lab. Need to test for accelerants."  
  
Grissom cocked an eyebrow. "Someone set your guy on fire?"  
  
"Guys - plural. Eight vics, tied together and set ablaze in the middle of the dance floor. Robbins is still doing the autopsies. Heard you and Sara have six?"  
  
Grissom nodded, grimly. "It doesn't rain, but it pours. Do you have any ideas?"  
  
"Not really. We're thinking a hate crime, considering the club and a note that was left there a couple of days ago. The person who left it watches too many crime shows - he made up of letters and words from magazine and newspaper clippings and smeared blood all over the walls." Warrick's tone was resigned, but Grissom heard the underlying anger in it. He looked at Warrick a little more intently.  
  
"You okay with this one?"  
  
Warrick sighed and shrugged. "Yeah. It just pisses me off. Life is too short to be hating everyone. I put up with a lot of this shit growing up. Intolerance just bothers me." He looked at Grissom and smiled grimly. "I suppose you could say I have no tolerance for intolerant people."  
  
Grissom smiled back in understanding. "Just as long as you don't run around killing them, I see no problem with that attitude."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"I knew I'd be seeing you sooner or later." Robbins greeted, as Grissom walked in. "I haven't looked at your bodies yet."  
  
"I know. I ran into Warrick in the hallway." He walked over to one of the examining tables, his gaze probing as they traveled over the burnt body of the man upon it. "Anything interesting?"  
  
Robbins shrugged. "The heat was pretty intense - these guys have all been cooked."  
  
"Blood boil up?"  
  
"In this guy, yeah. I'll be able to get type and stuff, but it's going to be dense as molasses."  
  
Grissom grimace. "Nice image." He checked over some of the other bodies. "Warrick said there was blood all over the walls. It's hard to tell, but I don't see any noticeable wounds that would indicate they bled before being set on fire."  
  
Robbins shrugged. "I haven't found anything yet, either, but I just started. But I honestly don't think the blood is from any of these guys."  
  
* * * * *  
  
  
  
"Pig's blood." Vincent handed Catherine the print out, his expression triumphant. "Not human."  
  
"Hey Catherine." Warrick strode into the lab. "Doc got several clothing samples for us from the body."  
  
"And we got pig blood on the walls." Catherine took the printout Vincent handed to her, and gave it to Warwick.  
  
"Pig blood?" Warrick looked at the report, shaking his head. "So, whoever did this transported pigs' blood to the crime scene to splash on the walls. Who has access to pig blood?"  
  
Catherine smiled at him. "Slaughter houses, butchers and farmers."  
  
______  
  
Author's Note: Thanks for you reviews and patience with me getting this case started. I'm having so much fun exploring the psyches of these characters; I sometimes forget I can't just write about thoughts and feelings. I really appreciate all the feedback! And I'm bringing Greg back to the lab for some *light* work. For one thing, I have way to much fun writing him - he's just captured my imagination lately - and for another, Vincent is too stupid to handle evidence from 14 murders. Hehehe. Next Chapter: Welcome Home Dinner, some more clues. And for those of you emailing me asking for more N/S and G/C, I'll work on it. 


	6. STRAYS

VI - STRAYS  
  
Greg was sleeping on the sofa in the living room, the kitten curled in the crook of his legs, when Sara got finally got home from work. Nick was sitting in the overstuffed armchair, also asleep. Sara smiled in amusement at the two men, before softly touching Nick's shoulder.  
  
"Nick? Nicky - wake up."  
  
Nick shifted in his seat, opening his eyes slowly and looking at her. "Hey. You're home." He looked at his watch, frowning in sympathy. "Long shift, eh?"  
  
Sara nodded tiredly. "Yeah. Sorry I couldn't be here when you guys got home. What time was Greg released?" She had slid into the armchair, arm draped over Nick's shoulder. The steady beat of his heart beneath her hand made her smile.  
  
"Dr. Jansen showed up early - around 8:00, to sign him out. We've been home since 9:30. How come you're so late?"  
  
Sara sighed. "Bad night. Two cases - Grissom and I processed a massacre at a New Age store - 6 victims, all shot. Warrick and Catherine caught the investigation at Lifestyles - the gay club. Someone tied the employees there up before they opened for the evening and set them on fire. Eight bodies."  
  
Nick winced in sympathy. "So, busy night. Any clues?"  
  
"We're working on it." She looked at Greg again. "How's he doing?"  
  
"He was glad to get out. Jansen says he has to go for an appointment once a week for the next month or so, and then they can get him on a regular schedule. All in all, though, he said Greg's doing well. Is everyone still coming for dinner?"  
  
Sara nodded. "Yeah. They'll be here around 4:00. That gives me exactly 3 hours to sleep before I have to get up and start getting ready. So, if you don't mind?" Pushing away from Nick, she stood and headed towards the bedroom. "See you later."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Greg was watching TV when Sara stumbled into the living room later that afternoon. Sara stood in doorway for a few minutes, studying him while she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. He was still so pale, and Sara couldn't help but notice he had lost a lot of weight. Not that he had been a big guy to begin with, but he had always been toned. Now he was just - skinny. Her kitten was sitting on his knees, little paws kneading his leg, as Greg absently stroked under her neck. Sara smiled.  
  
"I think she likes you."  
  
"Hey Sara. Did you have a good sleep?"  
  
"What little I got of it, yeah." Walking over to the sofa, she sat down beside Greg, reaching out to pet the kitten as well. "How's your first day of freedom?"  
  
Greg shrugged. "Not bad, I guess. At least I'm not stuck in a hospital bed all day." He looked at her shyly. "Thanks for letting me move in here with you guys. I promise it won't be for long and -"  
  
Sara interrupted him. "Greg, we've had this conversation before. You can stay as long as you like." She sighed when Greg turned his head away. "Greg, you have to stop thinking this is an imposition. We're friends, right?"  
  
At Greg's nod, Sara continued. "Well, then? What's the problem here? Friends help each other out." Greg shrugged, and turned to face her again. His voice was soft. "I just - I'm not used to having people look after me like this. I've been on my own twelve years now, and it's just - hard to get used to."  
  
Sara smiled softly. "We have a lot in common you know. I've been on my own for a long time as well - since my parents died when I was 18. And you get so used to being independent and doing it all for yourself, it's hard to lower your shields and accept help when you need it." She touched his hand gently, squeezing it quickly. "But you know what? When you finally realize you don't have to be alone anymore, it's a good feeling."  
  
Greg sighed. "It's just hard to believe that you guys want me here." He looked at Sara seriously. "You have to understand Sara. I grew up in foster homes. Some families I stayed with were wonderful, and others - not so much. But I was always on the outside, looking in. When my mom died, I thought that maybe someone would finally be able to adopt me, you know? Maybe I would finally find a place and stick, but it never happened. The last family I was with -" he paused. "I stayed with them for 5 years. I would have stayed forever, if they had wanted me. I used to imagine they were my family - I even called them mom and dad. But when I asked them to adopt me, they said they couldn't. If they adopted me, they would lose the monthly allowance from Children's Services."  
  
"That's rough, Greg." Sara's voice was aching with sympathy. "Everyone deserves a family. And I can't begin to imagine what you went through growing up without one, but don't let it affect you your entire life. All your friends are coming here today, just to be with you, to support you. Do you think any of us would ever turn you away?" She smiled gently. "Grissom wasn't lying when he said we were family. We're just not a traditional one."  
  
Greg was looking at his hands, which were still stroking the kitten's soft fur. "Do you really believe that? That we're family?"  
  
"I really believe it, Greg."  
  
Greg was silent for a moment. "You know, Sara, I was with Nick when he chose this kitten for you. We walked through the ASPCA, and there were cats of all shapes and sizes, just looking at us. And there were other kittens there as well. But Nick saw this one, and he asked the volunteer about her. When she told us that her mother had been abused before being rescued, and had to be put to sleep after she had her litter, Nick knew this was the cat he wanted."  
  
He looked at Sara, and grinned softly. "After he signed the papers, and we brought her out to the truck, I asked him 'Why this kitten? She's cute, but there were other nicer looking kittens to choose from.' No offense, puss-puss. You know what he said to me?"  
  
Sara shook her head no, listening intently.  
  
He said, " 'She's the one that needs us the most.' " Greg looked at Sara suddenly, and his eyes were almost black with emotion. "It seems Nick has a habit of rescuing strays."  
  
Sara smiled, and squeezed Greg's hand again, her fingers and his tangling in the warm fur of the kitten. "You're not a stray, Greg."  
  
"No. I'm not. Not anymore."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Nick had gone out to get some last minute groceries, and pulled into the driveway just ahead of Grissom. Getting out of his truck, he walked over to the older man. "Hey Grissom!"  
  
"Nick." He reached into the back of his car, and pulled out Greg's field kit. "How's Greg?"  
  
Nick shrugged. "Doing okay, I guess. What did you bring his field kit for?"  
  
Grissom smiled, and spun it around. Painted on the back of it were a couple of eyeballs and Greg's name. "You told me Greg wanted to have his friend paint it, so I took it to him a couple of days ago, and asked if he could have it ready for today."  
  
Nick grinned. "You took it to Dave? Alternative Dave? Mohawk Dave?"  
  
"That's the one. He's a nice kid. His hair needs a little work though." Grissom cocked an eyebrow when Nick started laughing. Together, the two men walked into the house.  
  
Greg was sitting in the kitchen, talking to Sara, when they walked in. When Grissom handed Greg the field kit, his face lit up, then immediately fell. He ran his hand lightly over his name, feeling the slightly grainy texture of the paint under his fingertips.  
  
"Thanks, Grissom. I don't know when I'll be able to use this though."  
  
Grissom smiled. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that. I know you can't do field work for a while, but I talked to Dr. Mellows today, and he cleared you to come back to the lab as long as you promise to rest as much as possible."  
  
Greg just looked at him, in shock. "You called Dr. Mellows?"  
  
Grissom nodded. "I wanted to clear it through him, before I brought it up with you in case he was against the idea. We really need you back, Greg. The lab is falling apart with out you, and Vincent is so backlogged -" he shook his head. "We've got two huge cases we're working on, and I need my best people. Vincent is adequate, but he needs constant supervision, and he doesn't think on his feet the way you do. So, if you're up to it - we could really use you tonight."  
  
Greg grinned, and it was the first time in a week Sara saw pure joy shining from his eyes. "You think I'm the best, huh? Wow. I'd love to come back tonight!"  
  
* * * * *  
  
As far as Welcome Home Dinners went, this one was pretty successful despite the fact that they ended up ordering Chinese food instead of the BBQ Nick had planned. It seemed no one really wanted to eat steak considering the case they had caught on the last shift, and Nick really couldn't blame them. Sara had merely grinned.  
  
"Now you see why I'm a vegetarian."  
  
Greg had been almost his old self, cracking jokes and flirting outrageously with both Catherine and Sara, Warrick had told some amusing stories, and Grissom had watched them all, contributing where necessary, but basically just enjoying being surrounded by his friends.  
  
Everyone had been teasing Sara unmercifully about her no-name kitten, and Sara had finally thrown her arms up in despair. "I honestly can't think of anything! Everything I come up with is scientific, and it doesn't fit her. I want her to have a nice name, and CODIS just doesn't work for me."  
  
As the laughter died down, Greg had piped up. "Name her Deena, but spell it D-NA. That way, you appease both your scientific side, and your emotional girly side." He grinned as Sara threw a mock punch into his arm. But she smiled as she bent down and picked up the little kitten, looking into her green eyes.  
  
"D-NA. Do you like it, kitty?" The kitten blinked, then meowed, trying to bat Sara's nose with her tiny paw. "Okay then. D-NA it is."  
  
_____  
  
Author's Notes: Okay, finally have a name for the kitten. Hurray! Thanks you so much for reading this and for the reviews. And whoever nominated Broken Boy for the 2002 CSI Fanfic Awards - wow! I'm really honored - thank you so much for that. And thank you, Saryn, for telling me. I had no idea there even was such a thing! Next chapter - on with the case. 


	7. EPITHELIALS AND FOOTPRINTS

VII - EPITHELIALS AND FOOTPRINTS  
  
"Home sweet home." Greg sighed as he walked into the lab, touching the equipment, murmuring happily as his fingers brushed his microscope. Turning, his dark eyes bright with happiness, he smiled at Grissom.  
  
"Thanks Grissom."  
  
"For what?" Grissom leaned against the doorway, crossing his arms casually over his chest. "You're doing us a favor, coming back early. And you might not be thanking me in a couple of days, when you're overwhelmed with lab work, and we're all snapping at you."  
  
Grissom smiled as Greg turned back to the equipment, rearranging things, opening drawers - he looked like a kid in a candy store, re-acquainting himself with his favorite treats. "Listen, Greg. Dr. Mellows has given you permission to do restricted work - that means plenty of breaks, and not full shifts. I expect you not to push yourself. Also, remember the defibrillator can not take intensive electric impulses - so, when you're running some of the more intensive equipment, you have to stand clear and wear a lead apron. If I catch you jeopardizing your health in any way, as much as we need you here, I'll send you home. Understand me?"  
  
"Lead apron? The type you wear when you're getting an x-ray?" Greg was standing sideways, halfway facing Grissom, and grimaced when he saw Grissom nod. "Okay. I'll go get one from Doc Robbins."  
  
"Good. You do that. But first, come down to the break room. We have to fill you and Nick in on the cases we're working, and we've got a list of tests we need run. Welcome back, Greg."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Geez. These pictures from Lifestyles are freaky." Nick was looking at the pictures Warrick had taken of the blood splatters on the walls. Because the walls were all black, pictures had been taken in full light, and also in darkness after having been sprayed with luminal. The blue light turned the blood an electric color against the stark blackness of the walls, each streak and break in the smear standing in dark relief. "This is pig's blood?"  
  
Greg was standing behind Nick, looking over his shoulder. "It wasn't splashed on. It's too uniform. See the streaking here and here?" He reached over Nick's shoulder, indicating a couple of horizontal lines where the bloods. "When I painted my apartment a few months ago, this is what I had after the first coat."  
  
Grissom leaned forward, stretching his hand out for the pictures. "Did you spray luminal on the floors?"  
  
Grissom looked at Catherine, who shook her head. "No. We didn't see any blood on the floors, it was all on the walls, and there were no areas that had been cleaned. The floors are black as well, so we would have noticed."  
  
Grissom stared at Catherine for a few minutes, before shaking his head and looking back at the pictures. "But if it was just a drop or two, maybe not. They transported the blood to the crime scene - what did they bring it in? Paint cans? Buckets? They would have put them on the floor. Buckets and cans drip. Go back, and see if you can find anything."  
  
Catherine's mouth tightened imperceptibly, and she nodded tersely. "Okay. We'll do that." She turned to Greg, and softened slightly. "Can you check out our letter for us? We didn't have time to do it yesterday, and I didn't want to leave it for Vincent. Regular stuff - fingerprints, DNA - anything."  
  
Greg nodded, and Catherine handed him the letter in a sealed evidence bag. "Thanks Greg. I'm glad you're back." She turned to Grissom, and the tight expression was back on her face. Grissom was still engrossed in the crime photos, and didn't notice but everyone else did. "Do you want us to go right now, or stick around to be briefed on your case? Grissom?"  
  
Grissom nodded absently. "No, go now. It shouldn't take long, and by the time you get back Robbins should be finished with most of the reports."  
  
"Fine." Catherine stood abruptly, looking at Warrick and jerking her head towards the door. "Let's haul ass, Warrick."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Nick and Sara had the unenviable task of piecing together several planes of broken glass that had been retrieved from the New Age store. Grissom wanted them to determine if the glass had been shattered by bullets, and if so, what angle they had hit the glass at. He had gone to talk to Robbins about the autopsies.  
  
Nick was sorting through shards of glass, grumbling under his breath. "Why do we have to do this shit? Warrick's the expert at it."  
  
"Just think of it as a giant colorless jigsaw puzzle Nick. It's not that bad. Start with the edges first and work in." Sara's voice was soft and Nick watched her for a moment as she pulled out several large pieces, closely studying the angles on the outer edges of the glass to determine which side had blown inward. She was biting her lip. Nick smiled.  
  
"You love this, don't you?"  
  
"What? Piecing together broken windows?" Sara's tone was teasing, and she slanted her eyes at Nick, before picking up two more shards. "I can think of better things to do."  
  
Nick grinned. "So can I. But since I can't - at work - I guess this will have to do."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Grissom popped into the lab on his way back from autopsy. Robbins basically had no news for him, other than the obvious. All the victims from Magikal had been shot at fairly close range. The only one who had not died instantly was the lady Grissom had found underneath the broken display case. She had been shot in the stomach, the bullet ripping through her liver. The shot had been fatal, but it had taken a few minutes for her to die, and her death would have been agonizing.  
  
All the victims had been easily identified, the bullets retrieved, and the final reports were all but signed by Robbins.  
  
The burnt men had been a different matter. Their deaths had been horrifying. Lab tests that Vincent had somehow managed to complete on his own without screwing up had indicated copious amounts of alcohol had been poured on the men before they had been set ablaze. Grissom supposed this made sense, since they were in a bar, but it was still disturbing. He made a mental note to call Catherine with this information so she could check for empty and half empty bottles. Maybe they would get lucky and find the bottles with prints they could use to identify the person or persons who had done this.  
  
The seven employees had been positively identified using dental records, but the eighth victim was still unknown. He didn't fit the description of any recent missing person's reports, and Grissom didn't like the fact that no one had called the police yet looking for him. The only saving grace in the whole matter, as far as Grissom could see, was that 'John Doe' hadn't been burnt as badly as the other men. Because they had been tied together before being set on fire, the seven employees forming an outer ring around him, he was still recognizable. The problem was, no recognized him.  
  
And because he had been so well protected by the body mass of the other men, he was the only one who hadn't been burnt to death. While he had suffered burns, they hadn't been fatal. Instead, he had been crushed as the other men had struggled against the wire binding them and the fire searing their flesh; all his ribs broken and his internal organs imploding from the pressure.  
  
Grissom was pondering this mystery man as he entered the lab. Greg was sitting on his stool, music playing, looking intently through his microscope. He looked extremely tired, but Grissom could sense his contentment at being back.  
  
"Hey Greg. How are you feeling?"  
  
Greg looked up from his work, smiling at Grissom. "Don't you mean how am I doing? I think I might have found something."  
  
Grissom shook his head. "No - I meant how are you feeling. Tell me what you found after you answer my first question."  
  
"I just have to get used to the new Grissom. You're normally not so solicitous when waiting for results." His tone was teasing, and he smiled when Grissom merely cocked an eyebrow at him, not responding. "I'm pushing my luck, eh? Okay. I'm feeling alright. I'm going to take a break as soon as I finish this - can I use the coach in your office? I've got Vincent putting together lists of slaughterhouses, pig farms and butchers in and around Las Vegas for Catherine and Warrick when they get back. And I've found a couple of hairs."  
  
Grissom stepped into the lab, a small smile playing around the corners of his mouth. "Hair? Where?"  
  
Greg swiveled on his stool, fully facing Grissom. "It was on the letter. I lifted some prints too. Then I thought I should try to dissolve the glue holding some of the letters to the paper, and started doing that -" he held up a hand at Grissom's sudden look of consternation. "Don't worry, I took pictures of the letter first, and I only lifted a few of the cuttings When I was printing the letter, I felt a couple of abnormalities under the thinner magazine paper, and thought I should check them out, so I dissolved the glue to lift them. They've been re-set in the exact same place."  
  
"Epithelials?"  
  
"That's what I was looking for when you walked in." Greg turned back to his microscope. "Give me a minute. You realize the only way we'll have skin tags is if the person who created this glued their hair under a letter by mistake and pulled it out when they lifted their head."  
  
Grissom nodded, stepping closer. "Stranger things have happened."  
  
Greg was looking through the scopes now, adjusting the slide the hairs were on. "Wow. This is interesting." He looked up and smiled at Grissom. "Epithelials. And two different hairs. Want to help me collect some DNA?"  
  
* * * * *  
  
Warrick looked at Catherine warily as she stamped around the bar, spraying luminal on the floor.  
  
"Want to tell me about it, Cath?"  
  
"Nothing to tell." Catherine's voice was testy.  
  
"You're angry at Grissom."  
  
"No, I'm not."  
  
Warrick grinned, but his tone was sympathetic. "Yes you are. You called him Grissom before we left, and you haven't called him Grissom in weeks. He was right, you know. We should have done this last night. Don't take it so personally."  
  
"How am I supposed to take it when he practically accuses me of not doing my job properly?"  
  
"What are you talking about, Catherine. He just told us to come back and check it out. He didn't accuse you - or me - of anything." Warrick was genuinely surprised. "I think you're reading this the wrong way."  
  
"You would say that, you're a man." Catherine snapped. She looked at Warrick when he didn't respond, prepared to elaborate, but stopped when she saw the amused expression on his face. "What's so funny?"  
  
"I'm not laughing at you Catherine. But, c'mon. Cut Grissom some slack. He's still your supervisor, even if you are in a relationship now."  
  
Catherine sputtered. "What? How -"  
  
"You leave work together. You come to work together. Grissom is nicer to everyone, and you're - softer. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure it out - only a forensic scientist." His tone was light, his eyes teasing. "Personally, I think it's great and I'm happy for the both of you. But you can't take it personally when he tells you to do something. That's his job. And we did skip a step."  
  
Catherine had the grace to look embarrassed. "Yeah. You're right." She smiled at Warrick suddenly. "Sorry about the man crack."  
  
"De Nada." Warrick waved his hands nonchalantly. "You finished with the luminal?"  
  
"Yeah. Grab the camera. I'll hit the lights."  
  
Warrick did as he was told, looking around the suddenly dark room as Catherine shone the blue light over the floor. A small number of dots and drips could be seen tracking along the floors' outer edges, and a small half circle of blood clearly outlined where the can or bucket had been placed. Warrick quickly started snapping pictures, humming to himself. When he got closer to the ring of blood, he stopped.  
  
"Catherine. Come here. We got a partial footprint."  
  
Catherine smiled as she approached Warrick. "God, I hate it when Gil is right."  
  
________ 


	8. DOCTOR ROBBINS

VIII - DOCTOR ROBBINS  
  
Greg was dead on his feet. He would never admit this to anyone, but he was bone tired. Grissom had left the lab just moments ago, summoned by pager, and Greg was relieved to see him leave. As much as he and Grissom seemed to understand each other lately, Greg knew Grissom would make him go home if he new how badly Greg felt right now.  
  
Leaning weakly on the counter, he waited for the DNA test results to finish, vowing he was going to lie down in Grissom's office as soon as they printed. He closed his eyes and propped his head in his hands, letting his mind drift as he waited.  
  
Doc Robbins watched him from the doorway momentarily. He had been on his way to the break room to get a cup of coffee, and had noticed Greg sitting in his lab. He was surprised to see Greg there, not having realized he would be allowed back to work so soon, and sighed in amusement and exasperation at Grissom. How many times had they spoken today? And Grissom hadn't mentioned anything. Robbins shook his head. Grissom was a brilliant scientist, but totally clueless sometimes.  
  
"Hey Greg."  
  
The sudden voice behind him made Greg jump straight up in the air, eyes popping open and air whooshing out of his lungs in surprise. His body shook a couple of times, and Robbins noted with concern the sudden pallor on the young mans face and the spasmodic twitching of his arms. Greg put a hand to his chest, grimacing. It was several moments before he could speak.  
  
"Doctor Robbins." His voice was weak. Robbins had stepped further into the lab, noting the fine beads of sweat popping out on Greg's forehead. "Sorry about that, I didn't hear you. You scared the crap out of me."  
  
"Sit down Greg, before you fall down. I'm sorry - I thought you heard me coming down the hallway." He frowned as he noted Greg still had a hand at his chest. "Is the implant reacting?"  
  
Greg nodded as he sank into his chair. "I'll be fine. It just shocks me when the heartbeat gets too elevated. Please don't tell Grissom about this, he'll send me home."  
  
"Maybe that's were you should be. You're back too early." Robbins leaned forward, checking Greg's pulse. "Still fast, but not too bad."  
  
Greg pulled his wrist away in irritation. "I'm fine. I was going to go and rest anyway in Grissom's office. I'm just waiting for some DNA results, and then I'll go catch a 30 minute catnap or something."  
  
Robbins raised an eyebrow at him. "Shouldn't you have a lead coat on?"  
  
"I'll come and get one from you. I haven't used the bigger equipment yet, so no high grade electrical impulses. I already got the warning from Grissom." He tried to deflect the conversation away from himself, instead asking. "What are you doing? Don't see you in this neck of the woods much."  
  
"I was going to get a coffee, and saw you in here. Thought I'd say hello." He glanced around the lab, scanning the various items before turning to Greg. "Sorry I couldn't make it for your dinner party yesterday, but it was my daughter's birthday. We went to Mezzanine." He paused, looking at Greg squarely, noticing his breathing was still choppy. "I think I should tell Grissom."  
  
"No! No, please don't do that. He'll make me leave, and I couldn't stand it. I hate being by myself when everyone else is here - I -" he paused, before continuing. "I think too much. At least at work, I can contribute something, and it keeps me occupied."  
  
Robbins sighed and pulled up a stool, sliding his arm brace to the side as he sat down. "Do you promise you'll go and rest?" Greg nodded, and Robbins sighed. "Okay. Fine - I won't say anything this time. But don't push yourself Greg. How do you think everyone will feel if you keel over in the lab?"  
  
Greg nodded again, miserably. "I know. I just want to prove to them that I'm still the same - that I can still do the job." He paused, looking at Robbins arm brace. "How did you do it, after your accident? How did you cope? If you don't mind me asking."  
  
"Do you know what happened to me, Greg?"  
  
Greg shrugged. "I've heard theories." He squirmed uncomfortable at that, quickly adding, "Not that we gossip about you a lot, but you know - simple curiosity. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."  
  
Robbins smiled. "Not much to tell. I lost my legs in a bike accident about 30 years ago. Some drunken idiot didn't see me and sideswiped me into a culvert. His car almost ripped my leg off. The other leg was so badly damaged in the fall, they didn't think they could save it. They tried, but infection and gangrene - well, it had to go. I was about the same age as you."  
  
"Wow. I'm so sorry! How did you - what made you -"  
  
"How did I cope?" Robbins offered, smiling when Greg blushed. "Its fine Greg, it was a long time ago. I didn't want to live, at first. I was so pissed off - I wanted my legs back. I was a miserable son of a bitch for about 6 months, snapping at everyone, refusing to do physical therapy. I basically started drowning my sorrows with Jack Daniels and Captain Morgan. I thought of different ways to kill myself, but I couldn't do it - Catholic angst, and all." Greg was listening intently, nodding in understanding.  
  
"You know what changed it for me, Greg? I met my wife. And she wouldn't put up with my shit. For whatever reason, she decided she wanted me. I fought her tooth and nail, every step of the way. She'd show up to take me to therapy, she'd come to my apartment and crawl through the window if I wouldn't let her in - she'd yell at me, tell me to stop drinking, stop feeling sorry for yourself - move on!" Robbins chuckled. "She was a real pistol. And I hated her for it. But I went to physio., and I stopped drinking. And soon, I was walking again on prosthetic legs. She ended up moving in with me when I finally realized how much I loved her. And we've been together ever since."  
  
Greg was staring intently at his hands as Robbins finished. "But sometimes - don't you wish -"  
  
"If wishes were horses, Greg. What's the point in regretting what's happened? I can't change it. Before I lost my legs, you know what I did? I was a professional slacker. I'd drift from job to job, making enough money to get by before moving on. After I lost my legs - I met Judy. I took courses at school - I became a doctor at 38 years old. A little late to find my calling, I admit, but I never would have found it at all if I still had my legs. I'd probably be dead, or on skid row. And I have a great job that I love. And I have a family. What's to regret?"  
  
Greg smiled slightly, "Well, when you put it that way." He looked at Robbins again, suddenly shy. "Do you think - well - do you think I'll ever find someone, who'll love me despite -" he waved his hands at his chest, suddenly silent.  
  
Robbins reached out a firm hand, squeezing Greg's knee. "You'll find her. Or she'll find you. Just because you have a little implant to help your heart out sometimes doesn't mean anything. You're heart still works, and that's what's important. Whomever said the heart was the seat of all human emotion was wrong anyway - it's all the mind, and how you see people and how people see you. We all see you as someone pretty special, Greg. One day, so will the right girl."  
  
The two men sat silently for a moment. Greg's breathing was back to normal, and his pallor had lifted somewhat. Robbins noted the fluttery pulse at the base of his throat was no longer visible, and he smiled.  
  
"You're computer has stopped analyzing - or whatever it was doing. Does that mean the test is finished?"  
  
"Yeah. It does." Greg smiled, and walked over to the monitor, quickly hitting print. "Griss is gonna love this. Female DNA. Our artistic letter makers are women."  
  
Robbins looked at the letter Greg had casually waived at, reading it. "This the letter from the bar?"  
  
Greg nodded absently, grabbing his print out. "Yeah." He walked over to Robbins and looked at the note again. "Sick, eh?"  
  
"Grissom never mentioned anything about the Bible when he told me about this."  
  
"Bible?" Greg's voice rose. "This is from the Bible?"  
  
Robbins nodded. "Ten years of Sunday School and Catechism classes can't be wrong. I'm pretty sure it's Leviticus."  
  
_____  
  
Author's Note: Hey everyone. Tried something a little different with this chapter. I thought it would be interesting to play around with Doctor Robbins a little, and who better to give Greg advice on coping than a man who obviously has done it? I don't recall ever hearing any back story on Robbins or his injuries in past episodes, so I made one up. Let me know what you think! 


	9. COINCIDENCE?

IX - COINCIDENCE?  
  
"This is an alcoholic's wet dream." Catherine muttered, pulling open bottles of liquor out from under the bar at Lifestyles. Standing beside her, Warrick grinned.  
  
"Nice. Does Grissom know you think like that?"  
  
"Oh yeah. He knows!'' Catherine smiled archly at Warrick, before turning back to the task at hand. "We're going to end up transporting half the bar back to the lab. The people who did this brought their own pig blood, couldn't they have brought they're own accelerant as well?"  
  
"I trust that's a rhetorical question." Warrick stood up suddenly, brushing his hands across his thighs. "You know what I'm thinking? I'm thinking we should check the dumpster. They would have had to use a lot of alcohol to set those men on fire - and I'm not seeing any empty bottles here. Maybe they cleaned up after themselves."  
  
"Yeah. Your right." She looked at the array of bottles spread out before her, shaking her head. "We'll still have to take these with us, but we might find something. And I don't want Grissom sending us back again to look in the dumpster - the smell in here this time tomorrow is going to be awful." Catherine wrinkled her nose as she looked around the bar, before grabbing her field kit. "Let's get this over with."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Grissom looked at the report Greg handed him incredulously. "Women?"  
  
Greg nodded. "Yeah. And, Dr. Robbins told me the message - it's from the Book of Leviticus, in the Bible. I did a word search on bible.net, and he was right. Leviticus 20:13."  
  
"Leviticus. Interesting. And we had one of the Ten Commandments painted on a wall at our crime scene."  
  
Greg shrugged. "But are they related?"  
  
Grissom smiled at him wryly, cocking an eyebrow. "If there is a link, we'll find it. In the meantime, rest. There's a blanket and a pillow waiting for you on the sofa in my office."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"There must be twenty empty bottles out here!" Catherine's voice sounded hollowly through the metal side of the big dumpster. Warrick, who was crawling around in the garbage, stuck his head over the side of the bin.  
  
"What did you say?"  
  
"Bottles. There!" Catherine grinned cheekily at Warrick, pointing to a large cardboard box full of empty liquor bottles stuck in behind the far corner of the dumpster.  
  
"How the hell did I miss those." Warrick shot the bottles a look of pure disgust.  
  
"They were under a folded over box - the box shifted when you climbed in the dumpster. Well you're in there, look around. See if you can find anything interesting."  
  
"This is disgusting, Catherine!" Warrick popped his head over the side of the dumpster again. "Why am I the only one in here?"  
  
Catherine laughed. "I've already pulled dumpster duty, Warrick. Remember? Your turn this time." Turning over an empty milk carton, Catherine climbed onto it and looked in the dumpster where Warrick was standing.  
  
Her eyes quickly scanned the contents of the large bin, her eyes watering from the smell. Warrick had waded through some of the bags and crud into the opposite corner. His eyes started their own interior scan.  
  
"Is that a paint can?"  
  
Catherine jumped, eyes darting to where Warrick had pointed. "Where."  
  
"There. Corner closest to you. I can just see the handle and a bit of the top, but it looks like a paint can."  
  
Catherine leverage herself up on her arms, leaning over the side slightly to get a better look. "That's a paint can. Let me go grab some gloves."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Sara. Nick. Give that up for a while." The sudden sound of Grissom's voice made Nick jump.  
  
"Gladly. What's up?" Nick smiled and gingerly placed the piece of glass he had been holding back on the table, walking towards Grissom. Off to his left, Sara sighed and stretched, her hands going to the small of her back and massaging. She winked at him when she caught him looking.  
  
"We've caught another case. Brass was just heading over there now, but it doesn't sound good. Two bodies, found in a car just outside city limits. Looks like another hate crime. I want you two to take it."  
  
"Great. The glass puzzle was getting tedious. What are you going to do?"  
  
"I'm going to wait for Warrick and Catherine to get back. They're bringing in a partial footprint left in a blood smear, and I want to stick around to see it." Grissom sighed. "We've got some DNA from the letter left at the bar - epithelials found on two separate strands of hair, two separate people. Both female. And the wording on the letter? From the Bible."  
  
Sara's eyebrows raised. "That's interesting. Another Bible quote? But, if the letter was made by a woman or women, do you really think it's attached to the crime scene? It might not be related at all."  
  
Nick agreed. "I can't see a couple of ladies painting pig blood on the walls and setting men on fire. It just doesn't seem to fit. Besides which, most homophobic crime is committed by men."  
  
Grissom looked at them intently. "I think it's too coincidental. That particular quote is often inferred to directly address homosexuals - 'They must be put to death'. I'd say it ties to the crime, and it might tie our two crime scenes together."  
  
"So, we have a what - a gang of religious zealots roaming the city looking for people to kill?" Sara sounded slightly incredulous. "Two Bible quotes do not make a conspiracy. Where's the evidence?"  
  
Grissom's reply was cryptic. "Absence of evidence is not evidence of absence, Sara. We'll figure it out. If we're looking for the same people, our jobs just got a whole lot easier."  
  
______  
  
Author's note: I just want to clarify that the quote from Leviticus is often used by religious bigots to try to justify their views on homosexuality, and in some cases to even justify homophobic attacks. I do not endorse this view in any way, and I just want to make that clear. I think hate - of any kind - is a bad thing. Please read and review and thanks! 


	10. PAINT CAN

X - PAINT CAN  
  
Grissom was standing in the door of his office, debating whether or not to wake Greg up or let him continue sleeping. Catherine had called to let Grissom know they were on their way back, over 40 empty and half empty bottles of liquor in tow, several rolls of film to be processed including pictures of a partial footprint found on the scene, and a paint can that had been retrieved from a dumpster out back. There would be a lot of evidence to go through, and they could use Greg to coordinate all the tests for them, but Grissom was reluctant to disturb him. By all rights, Greg shouldn't even be back to work yet, and it was Grissom's responsibility to make sure that the young lab tech rested as needed and didn't push himself too hard while recuperating. No one wanted Greg to have another set-back, but at the same time Grissom knew he couldn't trust any other lab tech to run the tests to his own exacting standards.  
  
Grissom sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose, smiling at the irony of his situation. He had always been hard on Greg - harder then he was on anyone else he worked with, and he regretted it now. Grissom had always recognized - to himself at least - the brilliant work Greg did for the lab, had always known that Greg was an extremely intelligent young man, but his constant teasing and joking - his exuberance - had bothered Grissom.  
  
He had often felt that Greg wasn't serious enough on the job, that his constant 'Look At Me!' antics proved that what Greg had in intellectual maturity he more than lacked in emotional maturity. Now that he knew about Greg's past, he finally understood what motivated Greg to act as he did. Behind his bravado, his cocky attitude and seeming self-confidence, Greg was really a lonely kid looking for a place to belong.  
  
Grissom could understand this. Despite his belief that he wasn't a people person, he recognized loneliness when he saw it. All things considered, it was amazing what Greg had managed to accomplish in his short life. Despite the fact that he had never had a family, that he had been shuffled from foster home to foster home his entire life, and been on his own since the age of sixteen, Greg had survived and thrived.  
  
He had managed to get an education, he was a brilliant chemist. He was surrounded by people who respected him and - more importantly - had come to love him. Yet, when Oscar had attacked him, he had done more than damage Greg's heart, he had damaged Greg. The exuberant young man Grissom had known only made brief flashes of appearance now. Greg was recuperating physically, but emotionally he wasn't doing as well. And Grissom, who had come to realize over the last few weeks how important his friends were to him - how important Greg was to him - felt helpless. He wanted the old Greg back - theatrical Greg, laughing Greg - the Greg who danced in the lab when he thought no one was watching him with a latex glove on his head.  
  
What disturbed Grissom the most, however, was the realization that if Greg couldn't get past this, he would become like Grissom himself. He would tamp down on his exuberance and cut himself off from life as slowly and surely as Grissom had so long ago. Grissom didn't want that for Greg - he didn't want Greg to grow older hiding from his emotions, so engrossed in his work and the simple act of living that he didn't have a life.  
  
He heard the muted tones of Catherine and Warrick's conversation as they walked down the hall, and realized they were back from the crime scene. Looking at Greg, so peaceful in sleep, Grissom sighed. Stepping into his office he leaned over and pulled the blanket he had left on the sofa up around the young man's shoulders, his hands gentle as he tucked in the ends.  
  
"Sleep well, Greg." In his sleep, Greg heard him and smiled. Grissom smiled back.  
  
* * * * *  
  
"What have we got, Brass?" Nick and Sara walked side by side toward the chief, field kits in their hands. Every once in a while, Nick's arm would brush Sara's and she would smile.  
  
"Hey Nick - Sara." Brass' voice was gruff, and he looked more tense than normal. "This isn't a pretty one."  
  
"When are they ever?" Nick sighed, placing his kit on the ground. "Gris said it looked like another hate crime?"  
  
Brass nodded. "Young couple, came out here to - stargaze." He smiled, but it held no joy. "We're not sure how long they've been here."  
  
The three approached the car that was sitting about 40 yards off the highway. From the side of the road, under normal circumstances, the car wouldn't have been visible. A dusty tan Oldsmobile, it blended into the desert sands around it. The illuminated lights of a night time crime scene were the only reason it was visible now.  
  
"Who found the car?" Sara asked, maglight flashing from side to side, taking in the peripheral edges of the scene.  
  
Brass shrugged. "We got an anonymous 911 call about an hour ago. A copy of the tape will be back at the station when we get there. Told us where to look. But the vics aren't in the car."  
  
They continued walking another 50 or so feet. Flashlight beams and the larger beams of the portable lights kept breaking the inky blackness of the sky, like spotlights shooting messages to the moon.  
  
Sara stopped walking about 10 feet from their destination. "Oh my God."  
  
In front of them, stretched out on the desert floor, the bodies of the two victims had been firmly planted in the shifting sands. The victim on the right, a young man with skin the color of dark Hershey chocolate, had been badly beaten before he had been bound, blindfolded, his arms stretched tightly over his head and a large wooden stake pounded into the dirt to hold his hands. Closer inspection showed that the skin had been peeled from his hands. His feet had been tightly bound to the inside of the other victims' calves. The girl was stretched out in a similar position, arms pulled over her head and restrained by a large stake and several ropes. The upper half of her body was covered in blood.  
  
"Where's all the blood from?" Nick muttered, stepping closer to the young women and looking at her, his face carefully blank.  
  
Brass, still standing beside Sara, moved forward slightly, flashing his light on a thin string of silver wire leading from what was left of the girl's throat to the stake her arms were tied to. "There's a wire cutting through the skin on her neck. We surmise they were tied here still alive, and everytime the boyfriend tried to move or jerked his legs, or she moved, the wire pulled tighter. Kinda like a garrote. Eventually, it would have decapitated her."  
  
Sara mentally shook herself, grabbing the camera. "Then let's get these pictures taken and lift what fibers and evidence we can, and cut them loose. This is obscene. How do we know this is a hate crime?"  
  
"Our killer left a calling card." Brass replied.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Grissom, Catherine and Warrick were carefully sorting through the bottles, dusting for prints, when Greg walked into the room.  
  
"Hey Sleepyhead." Warrick's voice was teasing, and Greg blushed when Catherine and even Grissom chuckled.  
  
"Hey. Uhm - I'm sorry I slept so long - I'll get to work on this stuff right away."  
  
Grissom merely cocked an eyebrow at Greg. "Did anyone ask you to apologize, Greg?" When Greg shook his head, Grissom smiled. "Then don't. You're supposed to rest as often as you need - doctor's orders."  
  
Greg walked over to the table they had spread the bottles out on, trying to hide the sudden tears that threatened to overwhelm him. He didn't know why he felt like crying, he just did, and it embarrassed him.  
  
Catherine, ever observant, lightly bumped her hip against his when he stopped beside her. "We're just glad to have you here, Greg. You could spend the whole shift sleeping in Grissom's office, and it wouldn't matter as long as you're with us. So, what we're doing here is pulling prints - obviously. We're doing the empty bottle's first, in the hopes we'll get prints for future use. And, we found a paint can in the dumpster out back. We've lifted the prints from the handle and can. We need you to run a comparison on the blood on the outside of the can to make sure it matches the pig's blood."  
  
Greg smiled. "No stone unturned. Where's the can?"  
  
"Grissom fumed it - wanted to lock any prints before we started pulling blood." Warrick looked up and smiled. "I think he really just wanted to play with the equipment."  
  
Smiling at the easy banter, Grissom lifted his head from the bottle he had just dusted. "No - Greg likes playing with the equipment. That's why he's the chemist."  
  
Quickly retrieving the can, Greg walked back to the table. "So, I guess I'll lift the prints then - looks like there's a good one on the handle." Gingerly placing the can on the table, he examined the blood streaks on the sides and around the bottom of the can. "Why did they put the top back on it?"  
  
Warrick looked up at Greg, eyebrows creasing his forehead. "Huh?"  
  
"Why did the put the top back on can? Who cares if there's still blood in it that might drip out when they toss it in the dumpster?" Greg looked at them seriously. "They didn't just place it on - look how tight it is - they pounded it on. Why?" Picking up the can and holding it up to his ear, he gave it a gentle shake. When he smiled, Grissom handed him his Swiss Army knife.  
  
"Use the screwdriver. Open it up."  
  
The three other CSI's leaned closer, watching as Greg quickly did as directed. Inside the can, covered in blood, bristles misshapen and stuck in the remaining blood congealing in the bottom of the can, were two paintbrushes.  
  
_______  
  
Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews - as always, I really appreciate them. This story has some really neat parts coming, and I'm working really hard to pull everything all together - there's a lot of stuff going on and I need to tie everything up in a neat bundle. Just to make it clear, I am not knocking knocking God, Christianity, Catholicism, etc. in any way shape or form - I AM knocking religious yahoos that use the Bible to validate their own twisted views on hate, however. Just so you know! Also - I'm gone until Monday, so no updates until then! 


	11. MARK OF CAIN

XI - THE MARK OF CAIN  
  
"'I don't know if they're still alive.'" The voice was so soft, Nick and Sara had to strain to hear it. "'The car is off the road about 200 feet. I don't know if they are still alive.'" The sound of sobbing and hitching breaths, "' Can you give me your name, ma'am?'" The calm voice of the 911 operator broke through the sobs. "' No. No names. I shouldn't have called. He shouldn't have been with her. I hope they're still alive.'" The sound of a dial tone, and the operators quite voice " ' Ma'am - ma'am?'"  
  
Nick looked at Sara, who was chewing her lip. Brass was sitting on the corner of his desk, shaking his head.  
  
"So that's the 911 call."  
  
"She didn't give much information, but at least she left the name of the road. It sounds like maybe she was there when they were killed - she said she hoped they were still alive." Sara's voice was tight. "Can we have the tape, Brass? Grissom will want to hear it and we're going to need it."  
  
Brass shrugged. "I had a copy sent to the lab already, along with date and time the call was made. She wasn't on long enough for us to trace though."  
  
Nick sighed. "What did she mean, 'He shouldn't have been with her?' Why shouldn't he have been with her?"  
  
"You saw the card Nick. According to our perpetrator, he shouldn't have been with her because she was white. I don't understand the Mark of Cain reference though." Brass' was tired, and he grimaced in frustration. "Mobley's already got his shorts in a knot because of the New Age murders and the Lifestyles murders - now this? Whatever happened to straight forward crime, like shooting your husband because he was cheating on you?" His tone was grimly ironic. "C'mon. I'll walk back to the lab with you, talk to Grissom. Mobley wants a report on the other two crimes, so let's hope they found something."  
  
* * * * *  
  
They had managed to pull three separate palm prints from the two paintbrushes found in the paint can. Greg had already determined for them that the blood in the can was, indeed, pig blood - not that anyone was surprised. What had been surprising was the clarity of the prints they had managed to pull from the brushes.  
  
One of the brushes had two palm prints, overlapping each other at opposite angles. Greg had managed to separate them, and the top one was currently running through AFIS. The bottles had been trickier, as there were prints from several different people on them. Warrick was currently sorting through the prints they had pulled thus far, and was trying to organize them - putting the same prints together. The job was going to be a tedious one.  
  
Catherine was also sitting in the lab, looking at a list of butchers and slaughterhouses in and around Las Vegas. There were no pig farmers per se, and only one slaughterhouse that specialized in pigs. Every once in a while, she would sigh in exasperation, her breath pushing her bangs from her face in feathery wisps. Grissom was studying the latest pictures, included the blood drops on the floor and the partial footprint.  
  
He looked up when Sara dragged herself into the lab, followed by Nick and Brass.  
  
"We're back."  
  
"I can see that." Grissom responded. "Tell us about the lastest crime scene."  
  
Sara shrugged. "Not much to tell, yet. Bodies are down in autopsy, and we're heading there next."  
  
"Was it another hate crime?"  
  
Sara nodded and looked at Nick, who responded to the question. "It was bad, guys. Two victims - I'd say late teens, early twenties. The male victim was beaten badly, stabbed and his hands were skinned. The female victim was garroted. Uhm - crime scene pictures are in the can. We found ID in the car, O'Reilly was going to go notify the parents." Nick's voice was tense. "We have a fair amount of promising evidence - a taped 911 call - Sara managed to lift a few footprints - some unidentifiable fibers found on the clothing - the ropes used to tie them up - the wire used to garrote the girl."  
  
"How was it a hate crime?" Warrick was still looking at the fingerprints when he asked.  
  
Brass sighed. "The male victim was black, the female white. We have a printed brochure that was left at the site on the dashboard of the vehicle - looks like it was printed from a home computer. Nick has it in his field kit. Basically, it condemns inter-racial relationships, all minorities, and white women who have relationships with said minorities. Real broad minded stuff." His voice was sarcastic. "Anyone know what the "Mark of Cain' is?"  
  
"According to the Bible, Cain committed the world's first murder when he killed his brother Able." Grissom's tone was thoughtful. "When God found out he exiled Cain, marking him so that others would know what he had done. The mark would have saved Cain from the revenge of others, but also made him vilified, branding him as a murderer and condemned by God."  
  
Warrick had twisted in his seat, surveying the others grimly. "It also has racial connotations. Some people believe that the Mark of Cain is black skin, so all colored people are descended from a murderer and therefore condemned by God."  
  
Grissom looked at Warrick. "I hadn't heard that before."  
  
"I have. Believe me, when you're mother is white and your father is black, and you're a little kid growing up in the 70s, you hear a lot of things you probably shouldn't. I've been called every name under the sun." Warrick's tone was matter of fact, and he turned back to sorting through fingerprints. "If people can find a reason to hate you, they will."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Grissom went with Nick down to autopsy, leaving Sara to search for a tread- match on the bloody footprint from Lifestyles.  
  
Doctor Robbins smiled at them absently when the walked in. "Just in time, gentlemen. I thought I'd start with our female victim first - thought you might like the wire embedded in her neck."  
  
Nick stood well back of the autopsy tables, his face stoic, as he watched Robbins work. Every once in a while, the doctor would speak into a small tape recorder, or motion for Grissom to take a closer look at something. Grissom, of course, was right beside Robbins, asking questions and making observations of his own. Nick, however, stayed as far away as possible. He hated being in the autopsy room, and didn't understand how Doc Robbins did this day in day out. Nick wasn't a squeamish man - with his line of work, he couldn't afford to be - but autopsies left him cold. He often viewed them as the final indignity placed on the victim - their bodies scoured in the name of science.  
  
He jumped when Grissom turned to him. "Nick. Grab me a bag."  
  
Stepping forward, bag open, Nick tried not to look at the gaping wound in the young girls' throat. Doctor Robbins had flushed it very gentle with a warm solution of some sort, and had managed to dig the wire out of the skin from around her neck. Grissom dropped the wire into the bag.  
  
"Looks like piano wire. Just like Lifestyles." Grissom muttered. Nick lifted it up, eyebrow quirked as he studied the strand through the clear plastic, grimacing at the sickly silver glow through the darkness of the blood.  
  
"It was the wire that killed her." Robbins inserted. "From first glance, anyway. There are no other marks on her body - she wasn't beaten. Just the wire - but it cut almost clean through her jugular. Let's take a quick look at our other victim." He stepped over to the young man, gently lifting an arm and studying one of the hands. "Whoever skinned his hands did a good job - they knew what they were doing. There isn't a lot of tearing along the muscles, and the cutting around the wrists is very precise." He pointed out the wounds to Grissom. "Notice the slight bruising around this area - just above the cuts. I'd say he was still alive when this was done."  
  
"Would this have caused his death, or do you think it was the beating?" Grissom's voice was neutral.  
  
Robbins shrugged. "I'd say a combination of both, perhaps. I'll have to do a more thorough review, but all the bruising in the upper chest suggests several broken ribs. There are various contusions on his face and head as well, and he would have lost a fair amount of blood from his hands. I'll let you know what I find, but right now it's impossible to determine if there's one specific cause, or a mixture."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Grissom and Nick met Greg walking down the hallway as they left autopsy. Greg looked flustered, but he smiled when he saw them.  
  
"I've got some interesting news," he started. "I've found a match to one of the palm prints on the first paint brush - the bottom palm print, to be precise."  
  
Grissom looked at him and smiled. "Finally, we're getting somewhere. What's the name, Greg?"  
  
"No name. That's the problem. The palm print matches our unknown victim from Lifestyles. He helped paint the walls before he was killed."  
  
______ 


	12. WARRICK

XII - WARRICK  
  
"It's 9:45 am. Go home, everyone." Grissom looked around the break room, noting the tired and tense expressions on everyone's faces.  
  
Sara looked up blankly from her cup of coffee for a moment, Grissom's words barely registering in her tired brain. "Huh?"  
  
"Go home. We need to rest - come at this from a fresh angle later this evening." Grissom's voice was firm. "Be prepared - we're going to lay out the three crimes, known times - similarities - see if we can find a common clue. None of us are thinking properly right now."  
  
"What about going to the slaughterhouse? Manager won't be in this evening, so we need to talk to him before then." Warrick looked at Grissom intently. "Want me to go later on this afternoon, before I come in?"  
  
Grissom considered Warrick's question, his expression thoughtful. "I don't want you going by yourself."  
  
"Why not?" Warrick kept his tone perfectly bland, but his gaze was intense.  
  
Grissom shrugged. "Protocol, for one. Also, someone from the slaughterhouse might be involved in one or all of these crimes, and I don't think it's a good idea to send you in there by yourself."  
  
"Obvious minority." Warrick muttered.  
  
"Why make you a target?" Grissom responded.  
  
Warrick shrugged. "Fine. Do you want to send someone else, or should I meet someone there before going in?"  
  
"Meet me here at 3:30 Warrick. We'll go together." Brass had been standing off to the side, watching the exchange. He smiled when Warrick glanced up at him. "We'll take my car."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Greg fell asleep in Nick's truck on the way back to Nick's house. His head had lolled onto Sara's shoulder five minutes out of the parking lot, and Sara had lifted one arm up around Greg's shoulder in an effort to make him more comfortable.  
  
"What a shift." Sara muttered.  
  
Nick sighed in agreement. "Just be glad Grissom took the autopsy for you. That poor girl - I don't know how Doc Robbins deals with stuff like that all the time."  
  
"Stuff like what? Dead bodies?" Sara's voice was teasingly ironic, and she squeezed Nick's knee lightly with her free hand. "Yeah - what a way to earn a living."  
  
Nick grinned, and his right hand dropped down to hers, tangling into her fingers. "Smart ass." They sat in companionable silence for a few moments, Sara gliding her fingers on the inside of Nick's leg, just above his knee. She smiled when the muscle in his thigh flexed and glanced at him sideways through half-lowered lids.  
  
"I'm trying to drive, Sara." Nick's voice was slightly husky, and he tightened his grip on her hand forcing it back up to his knee. "Don't distract me."  
  
Sara sighed. "Fine, then. Can I distract you at home?"  
  
"Maybe." Nick teased. "But I have to eat breakfast first - man cannot live on love alone."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Warrick walked into his apartment, sighing in disgust as he changed into a pair of ripped off sweats and an old t-shirt. He really needed to clean the place up, do some laundry - but he just hadn't had any time lately. Walking into his kitchen, he turned on the kettle and poured himself a bowl of Fruit-Loops, quickly making himself a cup of tea when the water boiled, before walking into his bedroom.  
  
He sighed again as he sat on his bed, quickly flicking the TV on for background noise, eating his cereal without really tasting it. The news played at a low hum in the background, and Warrick watched with detachment as Mobley appeared on screen, talking about the latest crime scene from last night. The news anchor finished with the standard "Names of the victims have not been released, pending notification of the families.." Blah - blah - blah, whatever.  
  
Warrick flicked the TV off, sighing in disgust. He had seen the crime scene photos Nick and Sara had taken, had read the names of the two victims - Scott King and Megan Carmichael. Murdered because, even in this day and age of supposed enlightenment, someone found the thought of a black man touching a white woman so offensive they had to kill.  
  
He grabbed the phone from his side table, punching in the numbers before he even realized what he was doing, and smiled when the ringing of the phone gave way to his grandmother's whispery voice.  
  
"Hey Grams, it's me."  
  
"Ricky! How's my baby doing?" Warrick grinned, and knew his grandmother was smiling on the other end. She always called him her baby, even though he was a grown man a good two feet taller than her. Warrick found the casual endearment strangely comforting.  
  
"It's going good, Grams. Just wanted to call and say hello, make sure we were still on for dinner the day after tomorrow."  
  
"Of course we are, baby. Jeannie is going to make a fine meal for us, and she's even going to let us eat in my room on TV trays. Isn't that great?"  
  
Warrick smiled. Jeannie was his grandmother's personal nurse aid, hired by Warrick to spend the day with his grandmother at the nursing home so she wouldn't be by herself. She was an old lady now, in her early 90s, and had totally lost her eyesight a couple of years ago. Warrick had hated having to send her to a nursing home, but she couldn't be by herself in her old house. Selling the home he had been raised in had been the hardest thing he had ever done.  
  
"So, Jeannie's working well then, Grams? You like her?"  
  
"Oh baby - such a nice girl. She reads to me from the Bible all day long, and in the afternoons, she takes me to the great room and plays piano for me while I sing. I just love her! But that's not why you called, Ricky. I can tell - what's the problem?"  
  
"Just work, Grams. Just work. We've had some bad ones lately, a couple of hate crimes. I guess I've been thinking about mom a lot - and thinking about dad."  
  
"I heard on the news with Jeannie earlier about the young couple that was killed. Is that what you're talking about?"  
  
Warrick said nothing, but his silence provided his grandmother with the answer she needed. "Ricky, sweetheart - there's nothing you can do to keep people from hating. Look at your momma and daddy - loved each other terribly, but his folks just wouldn't accept it. Moved clear across the other side of the country to get him away from your momma. Just about broke her heart when he left."  
  
"Why didn't he ever come back, when he was older and on his own?"  
  
"Why is the sky blue, baby? Maybe he was scared to come back - I told you what his daddy did to him when he found out he was seeing your momma and she was pregnant - he almost beat him to death. It was the saddest thing I ever did see."  
  
"But he could have stayed. You would have let him live with you and mom."  
  
"I sure would have, but your daddy - he was a good man, child, but he wasn't a strong man. His daddy was rich - and he was used to having all the things money could buy. It would have been hard for him to turn his back on all that and move into our little house."  
  
Warrick shrugged his shoulders. "Anyway, I didn't call to discuss this again. I don't know how you can be so understanding - it's his fault mom died."  
  
"No, Ricky. It's your momma's fault she died. She let herself be beaten down emotionally and spiritually, and she let herself be weak. She let herself die because she missed him, when she should have forced herself to live because she had you and Delia- and you were the best part of him." There was a long pause. "You're thinking about Delia, aren't you?"  
  
"Yeah. I'm just sick of all this, Grams. Mom and Dad - taboo because she was black and he was white - Delia." he stopped when he thought of his twin sister, angrily blinking back tears. "It's been almost twelve years since she died, and I still don't understand it."  
  
He heard his grandmother sighing. "Baby, what is there to understand? But there's nothing you can do after the fact except go on. She would have told you to get over it - life's too short to have regrets, and it's too short to hate people."  
  
"Hate crime." Warrick's voice was soft.  
  
"Everyone is created equal under God, baby. I taught you that. But sometimes, people just can't accept that, and they look for reasons to hate someone. Sometimes, it's the color of their skin, sometimes it's the country they're from, or the god they believe in - it's not right, but it's there. Delia understood that, and she tried to make a difference. Just like you try to make a difference. In God's eyes all that matters is the size of your heart. Delia would have forgiven the man that killed her. Don't you think you should too?"  
  
Warrick swallowed audibly. "Listen Grams, I don't - I can't talk about this right now. I'll talk to you in a couple of days - when I come for dinner. Say hi to Jeannie for me."  
  
"Okay baby. But think about what I'm saying to you. Delia - she was an angel here on earth, and now she's one with God. She knew that loving people - even when they hurt you and hate you - is the only way to make changes. You gotta get rid of the anger, baby. Get rid of it before you become a hater too."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Greggo! What are you doing up?" It was 4:30 in the afternoon, and Nick had wandered sleepily from the bedroom when he heard the muted sound of the TV coming from the living room.  
  
Greg turned to Nick and grinned. "I slept a lot at work last night, so I wasn't too tired. I thought I'd come out here and watch a movie." He tickled DNA under the chin, set-off a chain reaction of loud purring and mews. "DNA wanted company."  
  
Nick sat down in the overstuffed armchair, running his hands through his hair and yawning. "I thought I'd get up and start dinner." He glanced at the TV and grinned. "You're watching the Wizard of Oz?"  
  
"Yeah." Greg blushed. "I've got a lot in common with one of the main characters now." His tone was light, but Nick looked at him sharply.  
  
"You still think you're like the Tin Man?"  
  
Greg shrugged. "It's a good analogy. Don't worry so much, Nick. I'm getting used to it."  
  
"But -"  
  
"No but's. Don't start, okay? I already got the big pep talk from Grissom and even Doc Robbins last night. And besides, I was just joking."  
  
Nick was silent for a few minutes, watching Greg watching the munchkins welcoming Dorothy to Oz. After a few moments of strained silence, broken only by the high pitched "fa-la-la-la-la's" of several dozen munchkins, Greg sighed and turned to Nick.  
  
"Where's Sara?"  
  
"Still sleeping. She's beat. I thought I would get dinner going and let her rest. Were you happy to get back to the lab?"  
  
"Yeah. Yeah, I was. It's nice to feel useful, and I'd go crazy staying here by myself. There's only so much 'Over the Rainbow' I can stand."  
  
Nick grinned. "You have a problem with munchkins?"  
  
Greg shook his head. "No way, man. I don't have a problem with anyone." He sighed for a minute, and then looked at Nick again. "Tough case you guys caught last night."  
  
Nick nodded. "They're all bad, but it gets a little personal when whoever did this removes the skin from the guys' hands."  
  
Greg grunted in agreement. "I'll never understand why some people are racists, bigots - whatever you want to call them. Can you imagine if people were offended by you and Sara dating? Because you're from Texas and she's not, or something equally as stupid?" He looked at the TV again. "I bet there are no racists in Oz."  
  
Nick grinned. "Nope. Dorothy loved everyone."  
  
Greg sighed. "I wish I knew her."  
  
______  
  
Author's Notes: Hey everyone. Hope you are all still enjoying the story - I've got a couple of interesting chapters I'm working on - including more about Warrick, some more back story on him. Please keep shooting me reviews and ideas - they all help. I'm going to have a little bit more with Doc Robbins too - if I can get it to work properly. 


	13. FLOATING THEORIES

XIII - FLOATING THEORIES  
  
Grissom was making pancakes for Lindsey when Catherine wandered into her kitchen at 4:30 that afternoon.  
  
Lindsey, who had been chattering non-stop for the 35 minutes Grissom had been in the kitchen, greeted her mother with a big grin, before turning back to Grissom.  
  
"So, Uncle Gil - you know what Suzy told me? She said that spiders were the bane of her existence, and that she would be perfectly happy if all the spiders in the whole entire word just disappeared!" She tried to snap her fingers and almost fell of the stool for her effort. Grissom looked at Catherine over Lindsey's blonde head, and tried not to scowl at her amused smirk.  
  
He realized Lindsey was waiting for a response from him, and he looked back down at her. Her blue eyes gazed at him appealingly, her face a mask of outrage she obviously expected him to share at Suzy's insane declaration. Instead, Grissom just smiled at her.  
  
"So, what did you do?"  
  
"What did I do?" She threw her hands in the air in disgust only an eight year old could muster. "What would you do, Uncle Gil?" Grissom took a breath preparing to answer, but Lindsey just rushed on without him.  
  
"I told Suzy that without spiders the whole entire world would be overrun by all sorts of bugs and insects, and some of them a lot worse than spiders! I told Suzy that she didn't know anything about ecol'gy and said spiders were great! I even told her that my mom's boyfriend had a tarantula - that shut her up real good." She beamed up at him, and Grissom smiled weakly back. Catherine had walked over to the little girl and was playing with her hair, eyes twinkling at Grissom's obvious discomfort.  
  
"Wow." Grissom finally responded, inadequately, but Lindsey didn't seem to mind. "Uncle Gil, you are mommy's boyfriend right? Not just her boss anymore?"  
  
"Uhm - I feel a little old to be called a boyfriend, Lindsey. But I guess, in the context you mean, yes." Grissom swallowed uncomfortably at met the little girls blue eyes again.  
  
She grinned. "That's what I told Daddy, but he didn't believe me. He got real mad and said that mommy would never dare date you. I told Daddy that you were here all the time, and that you even had sleepovers. I like it when you're here, Uncle Gil."  
  
Catherine's hands had stilled in Lindsey's hair, her eyes wide as she stared at Gil. Grissom looked at her and shook his head, then looked at Lindsey. "I like being here, Lindsey." He smiled then, and slid the last pancake onto the stack, turning off the oven as he did so.  
  
"That's good." Lindsey trailed him to the table, sitting daintily in her place and picking up a fork. "Do you love my mom?"  
  
Grissom looked at Catherine and smiled. "Yeah. I love your mom."  
  
"Do you love me?" Lindsey looked at him seriously.  
  
Grissom looked at her just as seriously. "Yeah, I love you too." He grinned when Lindsey beamed at him.  
  
"So, now you have two girls to love, and before you had none. Isn't it nice?"  
  
"Very nice." He turned to look at Catherine, his blue eyes intense when they met hers. "I'm a lucky man."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"What a waste of time!" Warrick muttered. He and Brass were on their way back to the station, having just spent over an hour interviewing the manager of Tippen's Slaughterhouse. They had come up with nothing - no names, no hints, nothing.  
  
"Not really. At least, we can almost certainly cross them off the list of suspects." Brass' voice was level, and he glanced at Warrick as he pulled out of the lot. "I guess Grissom didn't need to worry about you being a target here."  
  
Warrick laughed softly. "Considering half the plant is black, I guess not." He looked out the window, admiring the lights on the strip as they drove by. "So, here we are - back to square nothing."  
  
"Something will turn up, Warrick. These crimes weren't well planned out - they're all based in emotion. Something is bound to give. Grissom said we'd layout the scenes tonight, and go from there. It's not like you to be so - negative."  
  
Warrick sighed. "I know. I just have a lot on my mind." He glanced at Brass. "How do you do this, day in and day out, and not lose your basic faith in humanity?"  
  
Brass snorted. "Who says I have faith in humanity? You know what I have faith in Warrick? What I believe in? I believe the sun will rise tomorrow. I believe that given the choice of doing something selfless or doing something selfish - most people will choose selfish. I think most people - if they thought they could get away with it - would be a lot more violent than they are now. I think if most people weren't so scared of the repercussions, there would be total anarchy."  
  
"That's pretty harsh." Warrick twisted sideways in his seat and looked at Brass.  
  
"After 30 years on the job, it's allowed."  
  
"My sister thought the direct opposite of that." Warrick stated quietly. "She believed in the inherent goodness of people."  
  
"I didn't know you had a sister." Brass looked at Warrick in surprise. He had always thought the young CSI was almost as intensely private as Grissom, just able to hide it better behind his cool façade and humor.  
  
"Delia. She was murdered about twelve years ago. It's the anniversary of her death in two days. She was my twin." Warrick's tone was soft and sad. Brass felt for the young man.  
  
"How did she die?"  
  
"She was an active member of my grandmother's church, and joined a missionary away team to South Africa in 1990, just around the time Mandela was released and the country was in the death throws of apartheid. She was shot by a farmer at a peaceful pro-democracy demonstration in Johannesburg."  
  
Brass slanted a glance at Warrick, his expression thoughtful. "Hate crime." He sighed. "I'm so sorry Warrick. That's a terrible way to die."  
  
Warrick shrugged. "I told her not to go, but she wouldn't listen. She wanted to help. They were going to build a couple of churches in the shantytowns while they were there." He was looking at his fingers intently. "Anyway, thanks for listening. I've been thinking about her a lot today."  
  
Brass reached out and squeezed Warrick's shoulder gently. "Understandably. You can talk to me anytime you want, Warrick. I want you to know that." Brass looked at his watch. "We still have a couple of hours before shift starts. Let's go grab something to eat."  
  
Warrick smiled. "Thanks Brass."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Grissom was already in the layout room when Sara, Nick and Greg arrived. "Hey Grissom. You're here early."  
  
Grissom looked at his watch. "Only 15 minutes. I wanted to get everything ready so we can get this show on the road - Mobley is screaming for blood. Besides, you're here early too." He smiled at them, and returned to the photos he had been looking at. "How are you feeling Greg?"  
  
Greg rolled his eyes. "I'd feel better if Dr. Mellows would let me drink coffee again. I'm really getting sick of decaffeinated herbal teas and fruit smoothies." He walked over to the table, looking over Grissom's shoulder. "Those photos from the New Age store?"  
  
Grissom nodded. "Also, from Lifestyles and the murders from last night. Besides the obvious links to the three, I'm still trying to figure out what's the purpose behind this."  
  
Warrick and Brass walked into the layout room, and Grissom sniffed appreciatively when he saw the tray overloaded with Starbucks. Greg groaned.  
  
"Hey guys. We brought coffee for everyone. The slaughterhouse angle doesn't look like it's going to pan out - nothing really suspicious jumped out at us. Greg, we brought you a strawberry-kiwi fruit smoothie." Warrick looked up when everyone started laughing, smiling when he handed Greg his drink. "What did I miss?"  
  
Greg grimaced good naturedly. "I was just saying how much I wanted a coffee - but this is nice, thanks."  
  
Brass had moved to the opposite side of the room, and pulled up a stool. His gaze was traveling over the various items sitting on the table before him, and he cracked his knuckles. "Where's Catherine?"  
  
"She should be here soon. Lindsey's babysitter was running late." Grissom turned to his fellow CSIs. "Okay, let's get going. Starting with the Magikal murders. What do we know?"  
  
"The murders took place three days ago. We know our victims were attacked between 6:30 and 7:00, all deaths verified to that time." Sara began. "As far as we can tell, there were at least three separate weapons involved - two rifles and a magnum. From the Bible quote painted on the wall, we can assume the attack was religiously motivated. Various prints - hand, finger, foot - have come back as unknown."  
  
"Anyone run the prints against our unknown guy at Lifestyles, or the other handprints at Lifestyles?" Greg interrupted.  
  
Grissom looked up at his team, eyebrow cocked. "I guess the silence answers that. Okay, so Greg - when we're done here, that's your job. Run all the prints from the three crime scenes against each other, see if anything sticks."  
  
Greg nodded. "I'll see if the wire from Lifestyles and the murders last night matches against each other as well."  
  
"All three crimes seem to have some type of religious or biblical connotation to them. Should we be seeing what right-wing religious groups have been active in the area recently? Check the letters to the editors section; see if anyone has been more vitriolic than usual against certain groups?"  
  
Grissom nodded at Nick's question. "I'll leave that to you, Nick. Good idea."  
  
Warrick was looking at the time lines of the first two crime scenes. "I don't think it's the same people involved in the Magikal murders and the attack at Lifestyles. The timeline is too similar. The victims were still on fire when the manager showed up to open the club - around 7:00 pm. The two scenes are too far away from each other for it to be feasible that they went on a shooting spree at Magikal and then made it to Lifestyles in time to burn everyone up."  
  
"Point taken. So, we need to either find a common link from the murders from last night, tying all three cases together, or we need to disprove once and for all they are connected." Grissom sighed, and pinched his nose at the bridge.  
  
"Do we have anything on the 911 call - where they able to provide us with anything at all? Triangulate an area for us? Anything?" Sara looked at Brass for this information, and Brass shrugged.  
  
"They weren't able to trace the call, but they did tell us it was made within a ten mile radius of the murders."  
  
Sara walked to the back of the room as Brass talked, quickly grabbing a large map of Las Vegas. She spread it out on the opposite end of the table. "So, the victims were murdered here." She indicated on the map. "Outside of the city."  
  
Nick and Warrick both walked over to her, studying the map as Sara spoke. "This is basically desert. It was - what - 15 miles outside city limits, right Nick? So, the 911 call could have been made from a car leaving the scene of the crime."  
  
"Doesn't make sense." Nick replied. "She was whispering like she didn't want anyone to hear her. If she was in a moving car, the other people involved would have been with her, and we would have heard the motor on the tape."  
  
Warrick frowned thoughtfully. "Isn't there an old commune out in that area? A couple of farms and geometric houses? They were in the paper last year - the city was trying to evict them."  
  
Brass nodded. "Yeah. I remember that. They built the geometric homes without getting permits, and the city was trying to force them out on the grounds they weren't authorized to build there. It was straightened out when the commune coughed up the money for permits, plus a fine for building without them, and the matter was dropped."  
  
"Where would they be in conjunction with last night's murders?" Grissom asked. He too was looking at the map.  
  
"I've driven past the place before. I'd say it's in the general area - say 5 to 6 miles east of the scene? Well within the parameters of the call." Warrick tapped the map in the general area with his finger. "Let me go see what I can pull on them from old files. I'll check out the archives on line for the newspapers." He looked at Brass. "They were in the papers when - last spring, right?"  
  
Brass nodded, and Warrick stood. "I'll go start right now. We're done here, right?"  
  
"For now." Grissom nodded. 


	14. HANDS OF RIGHTEOUSNESS

XIV - HANDS OF RIGHTEOUSNESS  
  
"Excuse me?" A soft voice broke into Greg's thoughts as he stared at the computer, waiting to see if he could match any of the fingerprints from the three crimes.  
  
"I'm looking for Dr. Robbins? Do you know where he might be?"  
  
Greg turned from the screen, taking in the young woman standing in the door of his lab. She was petite - no more than 5' 3, with long brown hair and brown eyes. Cute - not stunningly gorgeous, but pretty in a unique way all her own. Greg smiled at her.  
  
"I think he's probably down in autopsy. Follow me - I'll show you the way." He approached her and held out his hand. "I'm Greg."  
  
"Hi Greg." Her handshake was firm, and Greg marveled at how such a tiny hand could hold such strength. "I'm Alli - Dr. Robbins niece."  
  
"Is he expecting you?"  
  
"Eventually - probably not today, though. I'm moving in with him and Aunt Judy and the girls until I find an apartment here, and it didn't take me as long to drive here from Buffalo as I thought it would." She smiled at him as they headed down the hallway.  
  
"You're moving to Las Vegas?"  
  
Alli nodded. "Yeah - I'm an art teacher, and I was hired to replace a teacher that's leaving Cook High School. I start next week."  
  
"You're a teacher?" Greg looked at her askance. "You don't look old enough to be teaching high school kids."  
  
"I'm 27 - it's the height. Makes me look like a little girl." Alli laughed. "I get that all the time."  
  
They paused in front of the door leading into autopsy. "He's probably in here. Let me get him for you - who knows what he's working on in there." Greg smiled at her again. "Be right back." Stepping into autopsy, he shook his head to clear his thoughts. So, Dr. Robbins had a cute niece - huh. Big deal. Greg wasn't interested - he had too many other things to worry about. Besides, who would want him anyway - not even two weeks out of heart surgery. Frowning to himself, he walked over to Dr. Robbins. As Greg had suspected, Robbins was in the middle of an autopsy.  
  
"Hey Doc. That one of ours?"  
  
"No - day shift. Drug overdose." Robbins looked up from the body, and smiled at Greg. "What can I do for you, Greg?"  
  
"You have a visitor. I left her in the hallway. She says she's your niece - Alli."  
  
Robbins grinned. "She's early! I wonder how here drive was? Listen, will you take her to the break room for me? I'll just clean up here."  
  
Greg nodded. "I can do that - but don't be long. Grissom has me trying to match prints, and he wants it done ASAP." He paused for a second. "Why don't I take her back to the lab? That way, I can still work while she waits."  
  
Robbins nodded his agreement, and Greg walked from the autopsy room. "He just wants to clean up. Why don't you come back to the lab with me, and he'll meet you there?"  
  
"Sure." They started walking back down the hallway, chatting amiably about Las Vegas and Alli's new job. Once back in the lab, Greg quickly grabbed a couple of the footprints from the various crime scenes and started comparing.  
  
"So, what do you do, Greg?" Alli was sitting on a rotating stool, looking around the lab with interest.  
  
"I'm a lab tech here. Have a B.S. in chemistry." Greg responded. He was trying not to allow himself to get to drawn in by Alli's charming smile, and was keeping his reponses brief.  
  
"Wow! That's great. I sucked at chemistry. My lab partner and I managed to blow up a bunsen burner in high school once." She grinned at him. "So, what are you doing right now?"  
  
"I'm trying to match prints from several different crime scenes. We think there's a tie to them all, and we're trying to prove that the same people were involved. Right now, I have our system comparing the fingerprints we took, and I'm doing a manual scan on the footprints."  
  
A prolonged silence fell, and Greg looked up when he heard Alli sigh. "What?"  
  
"I can wait somewhere else, if you want. You don't need to keep me entertained."  
  
Greg immediately felt guilty. "Sorry - I'm just not feeling too talkative right now." He grinned suddenly at Alli. "So, you're an art teacher. Does that mean you're an artist?"  
  
Alli shrugged. "I paint - mostly oils. I really love sculpting - I've done some bronzes. Teaching just pays the bills until I can strike out on my own as an artist." Alli was studying Greg intently as he worked. When she had first spotted him in the lab, and he had turned the full force of his grin on her, she had felt an immediate attraction to him. The feelings of attraction hadn't dissipated in the few moments they had so far spent together. Alli was debating asking him to show her around Las Vegas when Uncle Al walked in.  
  
"Alli! How's my girl?"  
  
"Uncle Al!" She launched himself into his arms, feeling the familiar comfort of his big hug envelope her.  
  
"You're early, sweetheart. We weren't expecting you until sometime tomorrow!"  
  
"I couldn't wait. I woke up this morning at 3:00, and knew I wouldn't sleep anymore so I started driving, and here I am!"  
  
Dr. Robbins slung an arm affectionately over the young girls shoulder, squeezing it. "And I see you met Greg here. I hope he's been keeping you entertained."  
  
Greg looked uncomfortably at the footprints on the table and shrugged self- consciously. "I was trying."  
  
Dr. Robbins grinned at his niece again. "I called Aunt Judy to tell her you were here - she's so happy you've arrived safely, and she's coming down to meet you. You can follow her home and get settled. Tomorrow, she's planning a barbeque in your honor." He looked at Greg. "I've been told to invite everyone - so Greg, consider yourself invited. I've got to go hunt up Grissom and the rest of them. I hope you can all make it. Come with me, sweetheart - I'll give you a tour while we wait for Judy."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Warrick was sitting at Grissom's desk, computer open, searching the archives of the local newspapers on-line. He had found several articles pertaining to the permit dispute between the commune and the city, and was just downloading the files now. In Catherine's office, Warrick knew Nick was doing the same thing - pulling up letters to the editor and any other archived story he could find pertaining to threats or hate crimes in the last year or so in the Las Vegas area.  
  
Sighing in disgust, he pushed himself away from the computer, staring blankly at the door way in front of him. Sometimes he wondered if his job meant anything. Most of the time, he loved it. The thrill of following the evidence until they could piece together a crime and put criminals in jail - well, the feeling was wonderful, knowing he'd helped the victims of violent crime find justice.  
  
He thought back to what his Grams had told him earlier that day, about forgiveness, and he thought about Delia. Tomorrow would be twelve years since her murder, in a foreign country, away from the people that loved her. She had died surrounded by strangers, and in the uproar that followed the man who had shot her had disappeared. For months after her murder, there had been no closure for him or his grandmother, just the constant aching pain of loss.  
  
When they had finally been called by the South African embassy and informed that Delia's killer had been caught and was awaiting trial, it had been one of the happiest days of his life. That feeling of euphoria - of absolute closure - had been what prompted him into becoming a CSI. He wanted to bring the same happiness and closure to the families of the victims he processed, and sometimes he was able to.  
  
He sighed as the downloads finished, quickly hitting print. When he closed his eyes, he could see Delia's face as clearly as his own - her bright happy grin, her big brown eyes. She had been such a beautiful girl. He hoped that she hadn't been scared when she had died. He hoped it had been quick and painless. He thought of Scott King and Megan Carmichael - two young kids murdered in the desert, and he knew they had suffered. He just hoped they would catch the bastards who had killed them before they struck again.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Sara strode into the lab, her boots taping loudly on the linoleum as she walked over to Greg and peered over his shoulder.  
  
"Hey Greggo! What's up? Find anything?"  
  
Greg slid a couple of footprints her way. "I've found matching footprints from Magikal and the desert murders." He grinned at Sara's soft whoop.  
  
"Conclusive match?"  
  
Greg nodded. "Same boot - Kodiak's, size 11 ½ . We've got a clear print from Magikal - left boot, and a clear partial left and full right boot print from the desert. I've also found two comparable fingerprints from Lifestyles and the car at the last crime scene - plus a palm print from the car that matches a palm print you pulled at Magikal. These cases are definitely tied together."  
  
Sara smiled. "Good work, Greg! Grissom'll be thrilled." She leaned into him, giving him a quick hug. "We're not working you too hard, are we?"  
  
"No way. This is easy stuff. I wish I could go out to a crime scene with you. Did you find anything?"  
  
"Nick's pulled a ton of stuff off the net - several letters to the editor from a 'Brother Enoch' writing about the general degradation of God's law, and railing against the proliferation and acceptance of the homosexual lifestyle in Las Vegas - among other choice complaints." Sara grimaced in distaste and shook her head. "Grissom is talking to Brass, but he wants us to meet in the layout room in five minutes, just to update."  
  
Greg nodded. "Sure thing. Let me just pull this together."  
  
Sara walked to the door and paused. "What did you think of Dr. Robbins niece?"  
  
Greg shrugged. "Seems nice enough."  
  
"She's cute. She mentioned she met you." Sara's tone was teasing. "I think she might like you."  
  
Greg shot her an irritated look. "I doubt it."  
  
Sara looked taken aback at his surly tone. "Why do you doubt it?"  
  
"She doesn't know me."  
  
"Maybe she'll get to know you better at Dr. Robbins tomorrow. The barbeque sounds fun."  
  
Nick just shrugged. "Maybe."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Brass and Grissom were already in the layout room when the rest of the team started drifting in. Nick had a small file of computer printouts in his hand, and he grinned at Greg when the young lab tech sat down beside him.  
  
"Greggo! Leave it to you to meet all the cute girls first." His tone was teasing, but the smile quickly left his face when Greg just glared at him. "What? What did I say?" Greg ignored him, and turned to face Grissom.  
  
Catherine and Sara walked in together, smiling about something, quickly followed by Warrick, who strode in like Mr. Cool, smiling at Grissom as he took his seat.  
  
"Okay, people. What do we know. Greg - you go first."  
  
Greg quickly filled everyone in on the matching palm prints and foot prints, conclusively tying the three crime scenes together. Grissom was rubbing his hands, nodding his head as Greg finished.  
  
"Good - good. That's important - Mobley will be happy we've got that far, at least. Nick, what about you?"  
  
"I've got several letters to the editor, pulled from various local papers. There's at least four from a man calling himself 'Brother Enoch'. The letters are basically diatribes against 'Sin City' - he complains about the proliferation of gay bars, the general lack of God's true religion within the city. There's also some letters by other people regarding the same basic things." Nick looked at everyone and grinned. "I called the papers in question, and got an address for Enoch and the other letters that struck me as over the top. They all live at commune."  
  
Grissom cocked an eyebrow at that. "Interesting. Warrick?"  
  
"Not much information in the papers on the commune, other than they built without proper permits, and were charged a hefty fine. But I did find some interesting pictures." He slid the file he had been folding across to Grissom, his expression grim.  
  
"There were over 25 people living there last spring when this was all going down. The people not directly involved in the court case would sit outside the courthouse and protest. They call themselves the Hands of Righteousness. If you look at the top picture, you might recognize the guy I've circled."  
  
Grissom looked at picture, before quickly passing it to Catherine. "It's the unknown victim from Lifestyles."  
  
Brass was looking at the photo now, shaking his head. "Isn't this interesting? Okay - so, I guess I'll get to work on warrants."  
  
Grissom nodded. "See if we can get permission to bring them all in for questioning."  
  
______  
  
Author's notes: Okay - things are percolating along nicely. I hope you are all finding this case interesting - FYI - the two murders in the desert are loosely based on a couple of murders that happened over 15 years ago in Germany. Please R & R - let me know what you think. 


	15. ENOCH

XV - ENOCH  
  
It was 11:00 pm when the CSI Tahoe's, followed by several police cruisers, pulled into the driveway at the commune. A large farmhouse with a wraparound porch dominated the landscape, and in behind it several geometric dome houses populated the spartan landscape.  
  
Catherine, stepping out of the Tahoe, wrinkled her nose in distaste at the musky scent of manure that hung in the air. "Yuck. That stinks - they definitely have livestock around here somewhere."  
  
Grissom merely nodded, and waited for the others to join him in front of his Tahoe. "I guess we'll start at the house. O'Reilly, you stand here with your men. Well call you if we need you."  
  
A couple of lights could be seen burning through the windows of the farmhouse behind the pulled shades. Stepping towards the front steps, the CSI's winced at the sudden glare of the porch lights being turned on. A large man opened the door, stepping out onto the porch and glaring at them as they moved closer.  
  
"I wouldn't come any nearer if I were you." His voice was deep and smoky, and his arms, crossed over his chest, looked impossibly large. He was at least 6 ½ feet tall, massively built, and his mere presence was overwhelming. "Who are you, and what are you doing coming out here this late at night?"  
  
Brass stepped forward, pulling out his badge. "My name is Jim Brass. I'm with the LVPD. These are my colleagues. We're here to ask you a few questions, and we have a warrant to search the premises."  
  
"Warrant? For what?" The large man tensed, and his already deep voice became a growl.  
  
Grissom stepped up besides Brass. "We need to speak with Enoch Winters."  
  
"I'm Enoch." The man in question had stepped forward, his gigantic frame blocking the stairs onto the porch. "Do you mind telling me what this is about?" His gaze flicked dismissively at the other CSI's, pausing briefly on Warrick, before traveling back to Grissom.  
  
"We're hoping you can identify a victim from a crime scene for us." Brass stated coolly. "You can either be civil and answer our questions here, or you can come back to the police station with us. Doesn't make a difference either way to me."  
  
Enoch glared at Brass, before stepping to the side, waving his arm towards the open doorway. "Come on, then. We can talk in the kitchen." He turned to look at Warrick again, pointing at him. "Except him. He's not allowed in my house."  
  
"Then we'll have to take you back to the station. Our colleague is a vital part of our team and this investigation, and he will be joining us." Grissom's tone was cold, brooking no argument. He stared at Enoch for a few moments, face tense, waiting for the other man's response. Finally Enoch shrugged.  
  
"Fine."  
  
Nick clapped Warrick on the back as they walked towards the porch, following Grissom and Brass. "Asshole," he grumbled under his breath.  
  
"Aren't they all?" Warrick muttered back. He smiled at Catherine when he felt her move beside him, her hip bumping his in a sign of solidarity.  
  
"I don't like him already." she whispered.  
  
As they stepped into the foyer of the old farmhouse, Nick and Catherine took in their surroundings, cataloging the layout in their minds. Grissom, Brass, Sara and Warrick followed Enoch towards the kitchen, while Catherine and Nick lagged behind, glancing into a couple of dimly lit rooms as they passed by them.  
  
In the kitchen, Warrick leaned up against the counter, seemingly oblivious to the burning glares of Enoch Winters, who had immediately sat down at the kitchen table.  
  
"What can I do for you?"  
  
Brass pulled out a picture of the unknown victim from the Lifestyles murders. "Do you know this man?"  
  
Enoch took the picture, studying it carefully, before carelessly dropping it to the linoleum table top. "Should I?"  
  
"He protested at the courthouse last year when you were in court fighting the city on it's building permit charges." Brass scooped the photo back up, and Grissom handed Enoch the picture from the newspaper Warrick had printed earlier. "Recognize him now?"  
  
Enoch grinned. "Can't say as I do. A lot of people protested on our behalf."  
  
"He was murdered along with seven other men at a gay club called Lifestyles." Grissom's tone was soft. "We know how you feel about homosexuality, Mr. Winters."  
  
"It's an affront to God. Says so right in the Bible." Enoch's voice was just as soft, his tone sibilant. "People who frequent clubs like that shouldn't be surprised when bad things happen to them."  
  
"Bad things like being set on fire?" Warrick interjected. Enoch didn't even acknowledge his question.  
  
Grissom changed tactics. "How many people live here, Mr. Winters?"  
  
Enoch stared at him. "Right now? I'd say there are about 30 of us. And we stick to ourselves - fully functional, not reliant on outside sources for anything."  
  
"So, you grow your own food then?"  
  
"Sure do. We've got a couple of greenhouses out back, plus a farm. We raise our own livestock. The women make the clothes we wear, and we home school our children. We're our own society." Enoch stated this with a quiet pride. "We are beholden only to God."  
  
Grissom nodded. "That's impressive. I read some of your letters that were printed in the local newspapers. You have some interesting ideas, Mr. Winters."  
  
Enoch shrugged, neither modest nor boastful. "We live by God's law out here - He provides."  
  
"Do you mind if my colleagues start looking around your house? I'm afraid we're going to have to search them all, and we'll need to speak with the other people who live here." Grissom studied Enoch intently. "Do you have any guns on the premises, Mr. Winters?"  
  
Enoch smiled. "We have several guns on the premises. It's a cruel world, and we need protection from its undesirables." He looked at Warrick when he said this, and smiled when he saw the younger man stiffen. "You realize you're an affront to God, don't you boy?"  
  
Warrick's mouth tightened. "Pardon me?"  
  
"You're a freak of nature. Your neither black nor white. Not one of God's creatures - that's for sure. Either way, you're a mistake."  
  
Nick had moved to Warrick's side, arms crossed and face almost as tense as Warrick's. "You have a problem with my friend?"  
  
"Not him specifically, but in general, yes I do. He's a half-breed." Enoch's tone was dismissive. "If you're going to search the house, could you please get it over with? I'd like to get to sleep sometime tonight."  
  
Grissom looked from Enoch to Catherine. "Catherine - you, Sara, Nick and Warrick know what to do. Brass and I will stay here and keep Mr. Winters company. Please escort anyone else you find in the house down to the kitchen. We'll start here, and we'll move to the others as we finish."  
  
"Watch yourself, boy." Enoch called after them as they stepped out of the kitchen. "I'd let your friends proceed you into the rooms. You never know what someone might do if they think they're protecting themselves against the devil's spawn."  
  
* * * * *  
  
The four CSI's stalked down the hallway, expressions grim. Warrick had managed to keep his face perfectly blank as Enoch's voice followed them out of the kitchen, but Sara was scowling fiercely, and Catherine was biting her lip. Nick, although his face was carefully blank, was tense with anger.  
  
"I want to deck that guy." He muttered as they stepped into the foyer again. He quickly opened the front closet, checking out the shoes inside. "People like that make me sick."  
  
Catherine nodded in agreement, looking at Warrick sympathetically. "I don't know how you managed to keep your cool."  
  
Warrick merely shrugged. "Why stoop to his level? He wants me to loose it. I won't give him the satisfaction." He shone his flashlight into the far corners of the closet, its beam breaking through the darkness. "I see some boots. Maybe we should confiscate all the foot wear."  
  
In the opposite direction of the kitchen, the foyer opened into a large family room. Sara stepped into it and flicked on a light, quickly glancing around. "I see some photo albums on the shelf over there."  
  
"Sara - you and Catherine want to handle this? Warrick and I will head upstairs, wake up the household." Sara nodded her agreement, reaching out to give Warrick a quick squeeze on the arm when he walked by her.  
  
"Be careful, Warrick. This place is giving me the creeps."  
  
Warrick smiled at her mirthlessly. "That's not very scientific, Sara."  
  
She shrugged. "It's not always about science, Warrick. But don't tell Grissom I said that."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Nick - come look at this." Warrick's tone was soft. He was standing in the middle of the upstairs hallway, looking at a group of 8 X 10 photos lining the walls.  
  
"What?" Warrick felt Nick move into place beside him, and he drew his flashlight down the hall. There were five photos in succession, followed by a gap, followed by five more photos.  
  
"It looks like a picture has recently been removed."  
  
The soft snick of a gun cocking behind them made the two men freeze.  
  
"Who the heck are you, and what are you doing in my house?" The shaky voice of a women made them slowly turn, hands in the air.  
  
"We're police officers, ma'am. We have a warrant to be here. Our colleagues are downstairs right now with Mr. Winters, in the kitchen." Nick's voice was calm. "If you will allow me, I can show you my badge."  
  
The woman standing in front of them was as tiny as Enoch was large. Her blonde hair was long and fine, falling around her thin shoulders, which were tense with fear. In her hands she clutched a rifle. Nick judged her to be about 37 years of age. Beneath her long nightgown, he could see the tips of her fuzzy pink slippers, and he smiled at the incongruity of the look. Slowly, he inched his hand towards his pocket, reaching for his badge and flipping it open to show her. "My name is Nick Stokes. This is my partner, Warrick Brown. Would you put the gun down, please?"  
  
The woman studied his badge intently, before reluctantly lowering the rifle. "Enoch's in the kitchen?"  
  
Nick nodded, reaching out slowly for the rifle, suppressing a sigh of relief when she handed it to him without a struggle.  
  
"Does he know he's here?" She shook her head towards Warrick, keeping her eyes on Nick. Nick frowned.  
  
"Yes, he knows Warrick is here. Can you tell me who else is upstairs? We'll need to escort you all to the kitchen while we continue our search." Nick tried to keep his voice calm, just as he tried to smile reassuringly at the woman - he didn't think he managed to do either.  
  
"There's me, and Katie and the children. Let me show you where they are - if you were to wake them up or him -" she nodded at Warrick again, earning another frown from Nick, "you'll scare them."  
  
Warrick smiled at her gently, only his eyes attesting to his turbulent emotions. "Lead the way, ma'am. We wouldn't want to scare the children."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Are you the bogeyman?" A small child looked at Warrick seriously as they strode down the hall towards the kitchen. Warrick judged her to be about six years old, and he smiled at her in genuine amusement.  
  
"No. I'm not the bogeyman. My name is Warrick, and I work for the police." His voice was gentle, and he smiled again when the little girl smiled at him.  
  
"You have pretty eyes."  
  
"So do you." He replied. He shook his head when the woman who had surprised them in the hallway grabbed the girls arm, pinching it harshly.  
  
"Don't talk to him, Nancy!" She spat at the girl. "Papa Enoch will be angry with you!"  
  
"Yes mama." The girl sighed sadly, daring another quick glance at Warrick before turning away from him. Enoch looked up from the kitchen table as they stepped into the kitchen.  
  
"This is everyone in the house, Brass - Grissom." Warrick announced. Nick stepped forward, holding out the rifle he had confiscated from the woman upstairs.  
  
"This lovely lady here -" he indicated the blonde in the long nightgown, "pulled a gun on us before she realized we were with the LVPD. I'm going to bag it for evidence. Catherine and Sara are working on the downstairs. Do you want us to go back up, or head over to the other houses and round up the occupants?"  
  
Grissom looked at the rifle in Nick's hands with disgust. "Let's get everyone who lives here together, so we don't need to worry about anyone pulling more guns on us. Get O'Reilly and his men to go into the houses first - they're obviously police officers - less likely to meet resistance." He turned a flinty gaze on the woman in front of him. "Who are you?"  
  
She stared at him haughtily for a second, drawing herself up regally, her diminutive frame as straight as she could possibly make it. "My name is Rebekah. I'm Enoch's wife."  
  
______ 


	16. SCOTTY

XVI - SCOTTY  
  
Sara and Catherine were methodically and carefully looking through the photo albums Sara had found in the living room. There were several photos of young men and women in various settings - church, Christmas, working around the commune - and Catherine remarked idly that at one point or another, several dozen people must have lived at the commune.  
  
Sara, looking through a different album, nodded absently. "Lots of kids, too. This one is full of school pictures - home school, but obviously class-room settings."  
  
Silence fell, interrupted only by the occasional flip of the photo album pages, before Catherine's voice broke the silence.  
  
"I think this is him." She leaned forward, finger nail tapping at a picture as she handed the album to Sara. "It's a couple of years old, but I'd say it's the same guy who protested against the city last year -"  
  
"-and who painted the walls at Lifestyles before being murdered." Sara squinted at the photo, drawing it closer to her eyes. "I think you're right, Cath." She smiled at the older CSI. "Shall we just box the rest of these and go through them back at the lab? Let's take this to Grissom."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Warrick and Nick followed O'Reilly and a couple of his men at an easy pace through the geo-homes, waking up the inhabitants and escorting them to the front porch of the farm house.  
  
As they moved through the homes, the two criminalists performed a cursory inspection, looking for anything that appeared out of the ordinary, making note of closets and storage areas.  
  
Not one of the residents was happy to be relocated outside, the men complaining - rather pugnaciously - that the police had no right to be forcing them out of their homes at midnight, glowering in particular when they spotted Warrick in the background.  
  
After all five geo-homes had been emptied, there were 26 adults - 12 men, 14 women - and 11 children ranging in ages for roughly 15 to 18 months. The adults had been asked to wait on the large porch, and the children were taken inside under the supervision of a couple of officers and were waiting, tiredly, in the living room Sara and Catherine had already searched.  
  
Grissom and Brass had escorted Enoch and Rebekah outside to join the rest of the adults off to the side of the farmhouse, and O'Reilly and the other officers now stood silent guard on the agitated gathering.  
  
Nick and Warrick were speaking softly with Brass and Grissom when Sara and Catherine joined them.  
  
"Hey guys. We've got another picture - pretty sure it's our John Doe."  
  
Sara handed the photo album to Grissom, smiling as Nick and Warrick immediately lifted their flashlights to spotlight the page.  
  
Grissom smiled grimly. "Looks like him. Anyone recognize who this is in the picture with him?" His question was rhetorical, and he quickly began scanning the people gathered on the porch.  
  
Warrick leaned forward, squinting at the picture. "The little girl there looks like Nancy - the one who spoke to me upstairs, only younger. I think the young woman is Katie, also fro the farm house."  
  
Nick agreed with Warrick. "That's definitely Katie. I think you're right about the kid too. She's in the living room with the other children. Katie's standing over there, off to the side of the porch."  
  
Grissom's gaze followed Nick's hand. "Okay, then. Nick - why don't you go get Katie and ask her to join us in the kitchen? Warrick, you and Sara go get the girl."  
  
Nick approached the young woman slowly, studying her intently. Where the other adults were sticking with their groups, talking in low, angry voices to one another, Katie had wandered to the outside perimeter of the porch and was gazing into the night sky. She was a fragile looking girl, and Nick didn't think she was much more than 20 - however, she had such a fresh- scrubbed, innocent look about her, he questioned even that.  
  
As he stepped closer, Enoch and Rebekah watched his progress intently, small frowns marring their features. Katie seemed oblivious to his presence, and Nick realized she was humming to herself. "Excuse me." He smiled at her gently when she turned her gaze in his direction. "I need you to come with me, please."  
  
"Where?"  
  
"Just into the kitchen. We need to talk to you for a few moments. Eventually, we will be speaking with everyone, but we're going to start with you." Nick kept his voice deliberately soft, noting how Katie looked around at the others with jerky movements of her eyes.  
  
"Do I have to go with you?" Her voice was low, and Nick heard the slight notes of panic in it. "Can Enoch come with me?" She raised her voice when she spoke his name, and Enoch immediately approached them.  
  
"What's wrong, Katie?"  
  
Nick looked at Enoch coolly. "Nothing that concerns you at this moment, Mr. Winters. We're going to start talking to some of the people who live here, and we'll be starting with Katie here. She's a little nervous." He smiled at Katie again when he said this. "She has nothing to worry about."  
  
Katie looked from Nick to Enoch to Nick again. She was definitely scared about something. Nick watched with interest as she started to wring her hands, her large eyes appealing, even as her breathing quickened.  
  
"Go with him, girl." Enoch's command was growled. "Just remember, he's not one of us." Katie flinched at this nodding to herself or Enoch - Nick was unsure. Nick himself took an opportunity to glare coldly at Enoch himself.  
  
"What's that supposed to mean, Mr. Winters?"  
  
"Nothing, boy. Just that you're not one of us. You don't understand the way things work around here, not like Katie here."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Warrick and Sara stepped to the doorway of the living room, silently observing the children inside for a few moments. Sara, who had not met Nancy earlier that evening, let Warrick take the lead. Warrick quickly spotted the little girl sitting half-asleep on the lap of an older child, and took a deep breathe as he approached her.  
  
The children who were awake stared at him dumbstruck, the younger ones in an odd mixture of awe and terror, the older ones with a contempt that was cutting, especially coming from children.  
  
The girl who had been holding Nancy on her lap blanched when Warrick stopped in front of her and sank to his haunches.  
  
Warrick judged her to be about 10 or 11 years old, and he carefully blanked his eyes of emotion when he saw the fear in hers. Nancy had sat up a little, opening her eyes more fully when she spotted Warrick and smiling.  
  
"You're back."  
  
Warrick smiled at the little girl, genuine affection at her pleasure shimmering across his features.  
  
"That's the first friendly smile I've seen all evening," he remarked warmly. "Hi Nancy. It's obvious you remember me. My friend here is named Sara," he nodded over his shoulder, "and she and I need to take you into the kitchen for a minute. We need to talk to you."  
  
The older girl's arms tightened protectively around Nancy, and her voice shook. "No. I won't let you take her."  
  
Sara leaned forward, her voice reassuring as she noticed the younger girl's pallor. "We'll bring her back soon. We just need to speak with her in the kitchen for a few minutes."  
  
When the girl's only response was to tighten her hold on Nancy even more, Sara sighed in exasperation.  
  
"Listen, we're the good guys, okay? We're with the police - so you can trust us."  
  
The girl shook her head mutely at Sara, shooting another scared glare in Warrick's direction. Sara reached out a hand and squeezed Warrick's knee in sympathy, trying to hold in her anger. Before she could say anything else, little Nancy spoke up.  
  
"Ruthie - it's all right. He has pretty eyes." She started squirming. "And he's not the boogeyman. He told me so."  
  
The other children watched in fascination and awe as Nancy slid off Ruthie's lab and allowed Warrick to pick her up. Her small arms wrapped around his neck in absolute trust, and she smiled at the other girl from her suddenly elevated position. "You're not going to hurt me, are you?" Her girlish voice, so sweet and trusting, elicited another smile from Warrick.  
  
"No, Nancy. I'm not here to hurt anybody."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Katie was sitting nervously at the kitchen table when Warrick and Sara walked into the kitchen; Nancy nestled comfortably in Warrick's arms. She smiled happily when she saw Katie, and ran to her immediately when Warrick set her gingerly on the floor.  
  
"Katie!" She crowed happily, hugging the older girl tightly.  
  
Off to the side, Nick, Grissom and Catherine were speaking softly, barely glancing up when the other two CSIs approached.  
  
"He reminded her I wasn't one of them - I'm pretty sure he was threatening her in some way. She's definitely scared off something." Nick's whisper was intense, and his eyes darted over to Katie, before looking back to the others. "She didn't say a whole lot, but she's very tense - wasn't talking to any of the others out there, very nervous about something. And, I think I recognize her voice - from the 911 call. I'm not sure, but it sure sounds similar."  
  
Grissom looked at the girl intently for a few minutes. Brass, standing across the table from her, raised an eyebrow at him.  
  
"Okay." Grissom looked at Sara and Catherine. "You two start. We'll observe."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Nancy was tucked happily on Katie's lap, sighing contentedly, when Sara and Catherine approached them and sat down in two free chairs. Catherine had the photo album in her hands, opening it up and sliding it slowly towards them.  
  
"Can you tell us who this young man is?" Her voice was gentle, and she tapped the picture softly. "We're pretty sure that's you two in the picture with him."  
  
Katie leaned forward slightly, looking at the picture before closing her eyes and turning away. She didn't say anything.  
  
Nancy also leaned forward, reaching out a small hand, one finger gently tracing the face of the young man. She smiled at Catherine sadly.  
  
"That's our brother, Scotty."  
  
Katie winced when Nancy spoke, her eyes opening and closing quickly again.  
  
Catherine smiled intently at the little girl. "Does he live here too?"  
  
"Not anymore. He runned away." Her response was sad, and she leaned her head against Katie's chest. "He runned away, and now Katie's sad. She doesn't think he's coming back for us."  
  
"Are you and Katie really sisters?" Sara spoke now, gently, her question directed at Nancy. She was surprised when Katie answered.  
  
"Nancy and I are sisters, and Scotty's really our brother," she confirmed. "And he didn't run away. Papa Enoch banished him, and wouldn't let us go with him." She suddenly turned to look at Warrick, taking everyone by surprise as she gazed appealingly at him. "Do you know where he is?"  
  
There was dead silence in the kitchen for a moment, before Warrick stepped forward. "I can't answer that right now." His voice was soft. "We need to talk to you a bit more first. May I ask you a question?"  
  
Katie nodded reluctantly, biting her lip.  
  
"Everyone who lives here seems to either be scared of me, or to hate me. But you and your sister aren't. Can I ask why?"  
  
"They don't like you because Papa Enoch says you're evil." Katie's voice was just as soft as Warrick's, barely audible in the silent question.  
  
"He doesn't even know me. I've never met him before today. Why would he say I'm evil?"  
  
"Not you, in particular. Just -" Katie paused, biting her lip. "You're black."  
  
Warrick nodded in agreement. "Yes, I am. My mom was black. But my daddy was white - so I'm really both."  
  
Katie paled slightly at this, her gaze flying to the tense faces of the other CSIs before returning to Warrick's. "You're here - you're here about the murders."  
  
"What murders, Katie?" Grissom stepped forwards, placing a hand at Warrick's elbow. His voice was commanding.  
  
"The white girl and the black boy in the desert. No one knows I saw them. How did you know it was me?" Katie was crying now, big tears rolling from the corners of her eyes before dropping to the table. Nancy looked at her in concern, before tears filled her eyes too.  
  
"Don't let Papa Enoch send her away!" the little girl whispered. "Scotty will never be able to find her if she goes."  
  
Warrick looked at the little girl in sympathy. He turned to Grissom. "Why don't you talk to her. I'll take Nancy and wait in the hallway."  
  
Grissom nodded at Warrick's suggestion, his gaze never leaving Katie's face. As he left the room, he heard Grissom's hushed tones; Katie's silent tears turning to harsh sobs as she learned the awful truth - her brother would never be coming back for them.  
  
_____  
  
Author's note: Sorry for the delay in posting chapters. Long weekends tend to get in the way of my writing! Anyway, thanks for the reviews - and your patience in waiting for this chapter. I hope the wait was worth it! Let me know what you think! 


	17. AMAZING GRACE

XVII - AMAZING GRACE  
  
Warrick had a dozen different emotions and thoughts ricocheting through him as he stood silently in the hallway holding Nancy's tiny hand. The first emotion - the largest emotion - was anger. He was angry at the whole damn situation. The second emotion - surprisingly enough - was one of extreme tenderness. Something about the little girl holding his hand so trustingly had broken through his normally reserved wall of cool, and he found himself genuinely concerned for her, and by association, her sister.  
  
Nancy was yawning tiredly, trying not to cry as she heard her sisters muffled sobs through the kitchen door. Her smudged eyes would look at Warrick every few minutes, but so far she had said nothing since leaving the kitchen. Warrick thought she was going to fall asleep were she stood, and he crouched down on his haunches to regard her more closely.  
  
"As soon as Grissom - my boss - says its okay, we can go back into the kitchen and be with your sister, okay Nancy?" His voice was surprisingly gentle.  
  
"We're going to have to leave the commune. Papa Enoch will be real mad that we told you about Scotty. He said we weren't allowed to talk about him no more." Nancy's voice was sad, her small face serious, as she looked at Warrick.  
  
"Is Mr. Winters really your father?"  
  
The small girl shook her head. "No. My real daddy is dead in heaven with my mommy." Her voice was matter of fact, and Warrick half-smiled at her calm statement.  
  
"How come you live here?"  
  
"Don't know." Nancy shrugged. "Scotty and Katie and me moved a lot after mommy and daddy died. Papa Enoch was nice to us and gave Scotty a job on the farm, and we just moved in. All the kids call him Papa Enoch."  
  
She looked at Warrick again, her large eyes unblinking. "I don't like calling him Papa Enoch. He's not my daddy." She yawned again. "Scotty's never gonna come get us, is he?"  
  
Warrick blinked. How to answer that?  
  
When he didn't respond, Nancy nodded her head matter-of-factly. "He's with mommy and daddy in heaven. He'll be happy there."  
  
Warrick felt the sudden hot sting of tears burning his eyes, and quickly blinked them away. Nancy had leaned into him, and she was singing softly, her voice sweet and innocent.  
  
" 'Mazing Grace, how sweet the sound  
  
that saved a wretch like me -  
  
I once was lost, but now I'm found,  
  
Was blind but now I see."  
  
As Warrick hugged the small girl tightly to him, the anger he had been feeling for the last few days slowly dissipated; replaced by heart felt pain and tremendous sorrow. Nancy was singing for her dead brother; Warrick knew this as surely as he knew his own name. He thought of Delia and realized it was past midnight - officially the twelfth anniversary of her death. His heart still mourned the sister he had loved. Before he realized what he was doing, his soft baritone merged with Nancy's childish voice.  
  
" 'Twas grace that taught my heart to fear,  
  
and grace my fears relieved;  
  
how precious did that grace appear  
  
the hour I first believed."  
  
Nancy's small voice faltered but Warrick continued, crouching in the hallway and singing softly as she rested a trusting head on his shoulder.  
  
"Through many dangers, toils, and snares,  
  
I have already come;  
  
'tis grace hath brought me safe thus far,  
  
and grace will lead me home.  
  
When we've been there ten thousand years,  
  
bright shining as the sun,  
  
we've no less days to sing God's praise  
  
than when we first begun."  
  
Warrick smiled as he finished the hymn, his hand lightly stroking Nancy's hair. The little girl was nestled against him, silent tears streaking her tiny face as she smiled at Warrick.  
  
"That was Scotty's fav'rite song," she whispered at him solemnly.  
  
Warrick nodded. "It was my sister's favorite song too."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"This is a nightmare." Grissom's voice was tense, and he rolled his shoulders in an effort to relieve his tight muscles.  
  
Beside him in the kitchen, Brass shrugged. "We can't take them all back to the station with us." He looked at Catherine for back-up when he said this, before continuing. "Katie gave us a fairly good list of the men she saw the night those two kids were murdered, so let's take them in for now. It will take us a couple of days to sift through all the items we've collected from here, and if anything else comes up we can always come back."  
  
Brass looked to the far corner of the kitchen were Sara sat, talking softly with the stricken Katie. Warrick had returned Nancy to her sister, and the small girl was sleeping soundly against her side.  
  
"Nick and Warrick went to determine the men in question, right?" Catherine's tone was soft, and she arched a brow in Grissom's direction. Grissom nodded in agitation, before sighing.  
  
"Unfortunately, none of them are Enoch Winters. Katie says he was here that night."  
  
"We'll take him in anyway. He's the de facto leader of this group, and that gives us ample reason to hold him for a little while - I can probably stretch it out 24 hours or so." Brass looked at Grissom, smiling tightly.  
  
Catherine nodded in agreement. "And I'm sure once she's not so upset about her brother, Katie will provide us with more information. She knows more than she realizes."  
  
Grissom sighed. "What are we going to do with her in the meantime? She can't stay here - they'll know right away she's the one who fingered them. We all know what happened to her brother - the same thing would happen to her."  
  
"Well, we can't take her into protective custody. Especially not with a little girl. Mobley won't go for it, and no one has threatened her yet." Brass's tone was grim. "We'll take them to the station for now, and figure out what to do with them later."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Katie and Nancy were riding back to the station with Warrick; Nancy already sleeping soundly in the back of Warrick's car. For whatever reason, little Nancy had developed a strong attachment to him, and had insisted they drive with him. Sara had helped Katie pack a small bag of essential items, assuring the young woman that she would not be returning to the commune anytime soon - if ever. Katie had packed only a few items of clothing, an old photo album, and a battered Curious George she claimed Nancy never slept without. Looking at the threadbare and nappy animal, Warrick didn't doubt the verity of that statement.  
  
Katie was very quiet as they left the commune, watching the farmhouse is it faded into the background, sighing.  
  
Warrick fiddled with the radio tuner as he drove, before flipping off the radio in disgust. He glanced sideways at Katie, quickly noting her extreme pallor.  
  
"You okay?"  
  
Katie looked at him and smiled shakily. "I don't know what okay is anymore. I haven't been off the commune more than a handful of time in the last two years, and I'm scared."  
  
"Do you mind if I ask you a question?" Warrick had turned back to his driving. "How did you arrive at the compound?"  
  
Katie shrugged. "Katie is not my full sister, did you know that? She's my half-sister. Her mother was my father's second wife. My mother died about 20 years ago now, when I was seven."  
  
Warrick's eyebrows rose at the surprising news that Katie was 27 years old, and he shot a quick glance in her direction again. He didn't really understand where Katie was going with this non-answer to his question, but he didn't interrupt her.  
  
"My father was a lot older than my step-mother, but they loved each dearly. Scotty and I were both thrilled when they married, and thrilled when Nancy was born. We all adored her to pieces. Dad and Mary where killed in a car accident 2 ½ years ago. Scotty and I were given joint custody of Nancy, but neither of us knew what to do. I was just 25, and Scotty was 26. And Nancy - she was so sad. We were all sad." She smiled at Warrick as she said this, nervously twisting the rings on her fingers.  
  
"A friend of Scotty's wrote him about Papa Enoch and the commune. He said there were children for Nancy to play with, and a real sense of family there. He invited us to join them - said anyone was welcome as long as they loved God. So we just picked up and left one day. Sold Dad's house, packed up our stuff, and arrived!"  
  
"And you never left." Warrick's tone was matter of fact.  
  
"Never left. Scotty's friend wasn't there anymore. I don't even remember his name."  
  
* * * * *  
  
By the time they arrived back at the office and separated the men they had brought from the commune, it was 4:30 in the morning. By the time they had fingerprinted and processed everyone, it was later than that.  
  
Greg had stumbled sleepily from Grissom's office as Sara and Nick had trooped by, carting boxes of photo albums, boots, shoes, several rifles and guns - even four separate computer printers - and had groaned when they had jokingly ordered him back to the lab.  
  
"Did you bring everything that wasn't nailed down?" he teased. Nick had merely snorted, but Sara had smiled.  
  
"Nick will be bringing in the kitchen sink once we dump this stuff."  
  
Warrick had carried a sleeping Nancy into the lounge room, gently settling her on the vinyl loveseat and covering her with his leather jacket. Katie had trailed in tiredly after him, slumping into an empty seat and mutely accepting the lukewarm coffee Warrick pressed into her hand.  
  
"Try to rest. If you can remember the name of Scotty's friend, or if you think of anything - no matter how minute you think it is - come and find one of us." Warrick smiled at Katie, exceedingly gentle, before turning towards the door of the lounge and turning off the overhead lights. "No one will bother you for a while. Just relax. You're safe here."  
  
______  
  
Author's note: Short chapter, I know. Next chapter - questions, leads, revelations and a barbeque. Thanks for the reviews! 


	18. GOODBYE TO DREAMS

XVIII- GOODBYE TO DREAMS  
  
Greg and Sara had carefully sorted the various boots and shoes that had been confiscated from the crime scene. They had decided to print the boots first - beginning with the Kodiaks, size 11 ½ they had found in the second geo-home they had searched. From there, they would print the running shoes and then start comparing prints to what they had been able to find at the crime scenes.  
  
Warrick had retrieved the fingerprints and palm prints of the men taken into custody from the commune, and was currently comparing them against the fingerprints they had pulled from the crime scenes. After he looked for matches, he was going to run the prints through APHIS as well, and see if any of the men had their prints on file for past indiscretions.  
  
Nick had taken the various rifles and guns to the ballistics lab to determine if any of the weapons had been used in the Magical murders. Sara had teased him good naturedly about his need to go and shoot guns, muttering under her breath about boys being boys as he wandered down the hallway, box in tow.  
  
Grissom, Catherine and Brass were talking to the men - one at a time - about the desert murders. Since Katie was already an eyewitness, and basically had been able to place each man brought to the station at the scene of the crime, the basic intent was to try to get them to roll on each other in regards to the Lifestyles and Magical murders. Brass was going to try to use leniency as the carrot to get them to turn against the others.  
  
In the lounge room, Katie slumped wearily on the floor beside Nancy, her head resting on the soft vinyl beside her sisters sleeping form. Warrick's parting words to her as he had left the break room were playing over and over in her mind, and she found herself wondering if she was safe.  
  
She had imagined they were safe when they had moved to commune. She and Scotty, despite their ages, had lived pretty sheltered lives. Her father and step-mother were both respected members of their small community, religious leaders in their church, and Katie and her siblings had lived in an almost insular world where nothing bad ever happened.  
  
Of course, her real mother had died, but that had been long ago when Katie was just a small child herself. To be quite honest, she didn't remember her real mother that much and therefore hadn't let her absence color her stunningly happy childhood. She and Scotty had both loved Mary dearly, and had come to love her as a mother. When their parents had been killed, they had been thrown to the wolves, as it were. Their church had rallied around them, trying to support them and help them through their grief, but it had all been too much.  
  
Everything and every person in their small community was a constant reminder of their loss, and one day Scotty and Katie had agreed they needed to escape the memories and start anew somewhere else. They had both agreed that keeping their small family together was more important than anything else, and they wanted to see Nancy smile again.  
  
They had closed out their parents affairs and followed Scotty's friend to the commune. At first, everything had been wonderful. Papa Enoch and Rebakah had welcomed them with open arms, even though Scotty's friend was no longer there and had left no forwarding address. Katie had felt a real sense of family, and she and Scotty had agreed to stay for a little while until they got their feet under them. That little while had turned into two years. Katie was stunned when she thought about it. Two years!  
  
And in those two years, she and Scotty had just blithely done whatever was expected of them, no questions asked. Within six months of living with Enoch and the others, they had turned over all the money they had made on the sale of their father's house, along with the money left them in their parents wills. Katie and Nancy were calling Enoch 'Papa Enoch' as if it was the most natural ting in the world. The girls attended daily bible studies and prayer meetings with the woman, and the men had their own separate prayer meetings. Three times a week, everyone would gather together and Papa Enoch would deliver a blistering sermon on the word of God.  
  
Katie realized now she had been living in a bubble. The things that had bothered her about the commune had been pushed to the side, not thought about. She had fooled herself into thinking she was happy.  
  
The last six months had been different though. The tone of the commune started changing. All of a sudden, Enoch's sermons changed from discussions on God's love to discussions on God's vengeance. Enoch started planting seeds of hatred against non-believers, Jewish people, homosexuals, minorities - it never ended. He began claiming that they were God's army and that they would change the world and purify it for God, ridding it of the 'undesirables'.  
  
Scotty had grown increasingly uncomfortable and spoke with Katie several times about leaving, but she had put him off over and over again, saying the move would be too hard on Nancy; Enoch would never act on what he was saying - basically, any excuse she could come up with. She had finally changed her mind about leaving when Scotty had whispered to her one evening that he was scared.  
  
When she had asked him why he was scared, he had told her the men were planning something - they were going to attack a gay club downtown, and they wanted Scotty to join them. Enoch had decided the time was right for the "Hands of Righteousness" - a name he had given the movement - to start cleansing the city for God.  
  
Katie hadn't really believed the men would take it that far, and had told Scotty so, but Scotty had disagreed. He thought they had killed his friend.  
  
Katie had scoffed when Scotty told her this, but he had been insistent.  
  
"I overheard something I wasn't supposed to hear the other day," he had stated sadly. "Enoch and Michael were talking about us, and Michael said 'If Scotty really knew what we did to Eric, he wouldn't be here.' And Aaron had responded. 'Fucking fag. He deserved it for lying to us.'" Katie had been shocked at this, but Scotty had confirmed for her that Eric was - indeed - gay.  
  
Sitting in the lounge room, Katie remembered everything. She remembered agreeing with Scotty that they would leave. Even though Scotty didn't come out and admit it, she had a feeling that her brother may also be gay, and she knew if that was the case, Enoch would banish him at the very least. She became scared for the first time in a long time.  
  
Rebekah had caught her packing some items and had confronted her, forcing Katie to admit they had decided to move on. While Rebekah had expressed understanding at the time, she had gone immediately to Enoch and told him. That night, Enoch had sent Scotty on an errand into town with Michael, Aaron, Jake, Matt and Robert. They had returned without Scotty. And Enoch had told Katie the next day that her brother had been banished from the commune, and would not be returning. And that Katie and Nancy would not be leaving.  
  
Katie had spent the rest of the day in a state of shock. She realized now that she had known - at some elemental level - that her brother was dead, but she had refused to believe it. A couple nights later, she had seen several of the men who had taken Scotty leave the commune on foot, and she had surreptitiously followed them through the desert, hoping against hope they would lead her to Scotty. Instead, she had stumbled upon them torturing the young couple in the desert. She had watched in horror, biting her knuckles to keep from screaming, as Matt had carved the skin of the young man's hands; as they tied the girl to a stake, a garrote around her slim neck. She had finally backed away through the low scrub on her hands and knees, running back to the farmhouse as soon as she felt she was far enough away to stand without being seen.  
  
She had snuck into Enoch's private study, grabbed his cell phone and dialed 911, stuttering something softly before chickening out and hanging up. She knew if they caught her, she was dead, and then who would take care of Nancy? So she had hung up, snuck into her room, and when Enoch looked at her strangely the next morning she had said she was missing Scotty. But she knew she needed to get away.  
  
When the criminalists had arrived with the police late the night after the murders, Katie had been alternately petrified and relieved. She had cried when she finally learned the truth about Scotty, but it hadn't really surprised her. And now, she was away. Free from the commune. And she vowed as she sat in the small break room, crying into the vinyl love seat as she sat on the floor beside her sleeping sister, that she would see Enoch and his men rot for what they had done to Scotty.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Grissom sighed with disgust as he trooped angrily down the hallway, Catherine and Grissom in tow. He strode into the lab were the majority of his team were working, looking balefully at the array of boots and shoes before him.  
  
"Find anything?" his voice was angry and demanding.  
  
Warrick smiled in commiseration at Grissom. "I take it the interviews aren't going well."  
  
"They aren't going at all." Brass sighed. "The men have declined to discuss anything with us, all demanding to see a lawyer."  
  
Grissom walked over to Greg, looking at the shoe prints the young man was comparing. "You're looking pale, Greg. How are you feeling?  
  
Greg sighed in disgust. "I wish people would quit asking me that. I slept almost the entire time you guys were at the commune. I feel okay." he tried to keep his voice calm, but the underlying anger was hard to disguise. Grissom looked at the back of Greg's head for a minute, before squeezing the young man's shoulder.  
  
"I won't ask again if it bothers you so much. We're just concerned."  
  
"I know. I'm sorry.' Greg sighed, before perking up and handing Grissom the prints. "We've found the Kodiaks that were worn at Lifestyles and the desert murders - even managed to scrape some dried blood from the soles, along with some dirt. I'll analyze both later. Sara's got a couple eyeball hits on another pair of boots and some sneakers from the desert murder."  
  
Grissom smiled grimly. "So far so good. Warrick?"  
  
Warrick grinned. "I've got three hits so far on the prints. Michael Drake was at Lifestyles - palm print on one of the brushes, fingerprint from the hate crime car. We've also got fingerprint verifications from Jake Green - desert and Magikal - and Matthew March, Lifestyles and inside the door handle of the car. I'm just working on Robert Cavanaugh's prints now."  
  
"So, what do we still need to do?" Grissom waited for his team to respond, watching as the three young CSIs kept working even as they discussed the evidence.  
  
Sara supplied, "We need someone to match the brochure from the desert murders to one of the printers we confiscated, assuming one of the printers printed it. And Nick's in ballistics. We don't know what he's found yet."  
  
"I'll tell you what I've found." Nick chose that moment to walk into the lab. "I've found the murder weapons."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Katie woke with a start, stifling a sudden scream as she felt a hand gently shake her shoulder.  
  
"Katie. Sorry to wake you." Warrick stepped back quickly, removing his hand, his face carefully neutral. "It's 7:30, and our shift here is almost over. Grissom and Brass would like to talk to you again, and we need to know where we can find you. We'll be needing to keep in touch until this case is closed."  
  
Katie stood and sleepily rubbed her eyes. "I don't - I'm not - huh? I can't go back to the commune."  
  
"No. No you can't. Do you know anyone in Las Vegas - perhaps a friend or acquaintance you can stay with?"  
  
Katie shook her head mutely, shoulders dropping in misery.  
  
Warrick sighed. "I'll sit here in case Nancy wakes up. You go talk to Grissom. Maybe he can help you."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Nick, Sara and Greg were relieved to get home. Greg, despite his sharp words about feeling fine mere hours ago, was once again exhausted. Dr. Robbins had called about an hour before shift was over, eliciting promises from every that they would be attending his niece's 'Welcome to Vegas' party, and Greg sighed when he realized he would be getting up in less than four hours to go with Sara and Nick.  
  
Nick and Sara had groggily muttered goodnight to him, stumbling down the hallway into their bedroom, propping each other up as they walked. Greg had watched them disappear and sighed softly, picking up D-NA as she wrapped her warm body around his feet, purring loudly.  
  
"Hey, girl. Looks like it's just you and me." He nuzzled his nose into her soft fur, closing his eyes against the sudden hot sting of tears. He realized with some surprise that he was lonely - bone deep, soul searchingly lonely. Nick and Sara had stumbled tiredly into their bedroom, barely speaking, but at least they had stumbled together.  
  
Entering his bedroom, Greg collapsed on the bed and shut his eyes. The stitches in his chest were really bothering him lately, so itchy he wanted to rip them out and be done with it. Tomorrow he had an afternoon appointment with Dr. Jansen, and he didn't want to go to that either. He didn't want to have to think about his heart at all.  
  
D-NA curled up on his chest, little paws softly kneading his shoulder, and Greg stroked her absently. He tried to blank his mind to the sudden emptiness, but he couldn't do it. He thought back to a time, not too long ago, when his whole life had stretched before him. He had been whole - his heart had beat without the constant monitoring of a damn machine - he had felt free to flirt and tease, and had been confident in his future.  
  
With the careless action of one guy, that had all changed for Greg. Oscar, by drugging him and damaging his heart, had ripped Greg's dreams for his future away. By rights, Greg was normally an optimistic guy - growing up a foster-child meant he had to be - either be optimistic or just give up, and Greg wasn't a quitter. He had always seen himself in the future as an active man, a beautiful wife who adored him as much as he adored her, a long life ahead when he would finally have a family and eventually, grand- children to bounce on his knee.  
  
Right now, that dream seemed far away. He had an implant in his chest to make his heart beat properly. If the implant didn't work, he was a prime candidate for a heart attack. This condition was permanent. Sure, his friends had told him nothing had changed, that he was still the same Greg - but he wasn't. And he wasn't new and improved either.  
  
There were so many things he had to be aware of with his condition - electrical impulses, remote control cars, magnetic fields; even going through security gates at airports was no longer safe for him. Dr. Mellows had told him he needed to be aware - especially for the first few months - of his heart beat. The minute it started getting too elevated meant the defibrillator could kick in and shock it back to a normal rate. Having experienced a couple of shocks already, Greg didn't relish the thought of having to spend the rest of his life waiting for more.  
  
He thought about his dream - the deep longing he felt for a family of his own - and couldn't imagine ever meeting anyone who would want to take him on with his condition. Who would want a man who couldn't chase after his own children, play football with his sons, or have wild heart-pounding sex with his wife whenever the mood hit? Greg snorted at that thought. He doubted he'd ever have sex again.  
  
For some reason, that thought brought Alli to mind. Dr. Robbins niece was cute, and under normal circumstances, Greg might have convinced himself to pursue her. Normally, he liked tall brunettes like Sara, but Alli's petite stature and snapping hazel eyes had been strangely appealing to him. And he had really enjoyed their brief conversation earlier that evening in the lab. There was just something about her - something he would never allow himself to explore. By the time the barbeque at Robbins rolled around, Greg was sure Alli would know all about his problems, so the question was moot anyway. She wouldn't want him when she learned he didn't have a heart.  
  
Burying his face in D-NAs fur, allowing his tears to dampen her small body, Greg fell asleep thinking of Alli and all the other things he'd never have.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Nancy smiled happily at Warrick as he made the young girl a breakfast of bacon and eggs. When Grissom and Brass had been unable to come up with a place for Katie and Nancy to go to, Warrick had suggested they come with him.  
  
Grissom had looked at him in surprise, ready to negate the idea, but Warrick had steamrollered over his objections.  
  
"Katie's our only eye-witness," he had stated, "and we already know what these people are capable of. If we can't get her and Nancy into a safe house, we have to protect them ourselves. The people at the commune could be looking for her. At least if she's with me, they'll be safe. No one there would suspect she'd ever have the nerve to move in with me." Warrick had smiled grimly when he said this, but Grissom had seen the reasoning behind it and reluctantly agreed. Brass had assured Warrick that he would work on finding a safe house for Katie and her sister, and Warrick had simply shrugged. "Whatever."  
  
Getting Katie to agree to come with him had been surprisingly easy. For one thing, Nancy was awake now and had thrown herself at Warrick excitedly when she heard his proposal. Katie had been circumspect about the whole situation, and hadn't put up a fuss. She needed someplace where she and Nancy would be safe, she had no money, she had no friends, and for whatever reason this nice man - who had every reason to hate her for what she had witnessed and hadn't stopped - had stepped into the roll of protector. Katie was grateful.  
  
And so, they had left for Warrick's place. Warrick had made sure no one from the commune was in the waiting area or parking lot before he let them leave the building, and he had driven them straight to his place.  
  
He had quickly changed the sheets in his bedroom, insisting Katie and Nancy would sleep there and he would sleep on the sofa, and had gently directed Katie to go to sleep.  
  
And now, here he was making breakfast for Nancy, who chattered happily non- stop about a myriad of things. Warrick nodded and responded at the breaks in the rather one-sided conversation, and completely forgot that he shouldn't be happy on the anniversary of Delia's death.  
  
_____  
  
Author's note: Okay - next chapter, more personal stuff and the barbeque. This chapter just got too long to put it in. But it's mostly written, and I think it's gonna be an interesting chapter! Please R & R - and thanks for the heads-up DumbOldDork - a fixed my error and all I can say is forgive the mind-gap. 


	19. CONVERSATIONS

XIX - CONVERSATIONS  
  
Warrick was dozing on the sofa, his TV blaring. Katie was still sleeping and Warrick didn't have the heart to wake her up and tell her to look after Nancy. The poor girl was dead on her feet, stressed out from all she'd been through the last 48 hours; the realization of her brothers' murder just sinking in. Warrick remembered what he had felt like after losing Delia, and realized that sleep was the only way for Katie to escape the pain.  
  
So, he had searched through his apartment, finally finding some overhead markers, a glue stick and half a ream of printer paper, and had settled Nancy at his coffee table to create 'masterpieces', and he catnapped on the sofa.  
  
Every once in a while, Nancy would ask him a question, rising him from his stupor, but generally she remained silent, industriously working away. He smiled at the tiny child, and closed his eyes, the voice of Kermit the Frog droning in the background.  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Greg!" Nick's voice through the bedroom doorway was exceedingly loud. "You up, Greg? We gotta leave for Dr. Robbin's in 45 minutes. Greg?"  
  
Greg's muffled grunt through the closed doorway made Nick smile. "That's a physical impossibility, Greg. C'mon man - rise and shine!" Nick laughed as another muffled curse came through from Greg's room, and he strode down the hall, stopping in the doorway of the living room when he saw Sara kneeling on the floor playing with the kitten.  
  
He watched Sara silently for a few moments, only moving when he heard the slam of Greg's bedroom door, followed by the slam of the bathroom door and the sudden rush of running water. Sara looked up startled at the first slam, but quickly smiled at Nick when she saw him.  
  
"He is so not a morning person."  
  
Nick nodded in agreement. "Or afternoon person, for that matter." He moved into the living room, reaching out a casual hand and helping her to her feet. "So, did you sleep well?"  
  
Sara just grinned at him. "What do you think?"  
  
"If your snoring is anything to go by, I'd say you slept like a rock." Nick's tone was teasing, and he quickly twisted away from her when she tried to swat him.  
  
"I do not snore!" she protested good-naturedly, "Do I?"  
  
"Only when you're really tired. And it's not really a snore - it's more like a whisper sigh. Actually, it's very cute." Nick cocked an eyebrow at her, flashing his toothiest grin. "Sexy, even."  
  
Sara smiled. "Only you would find snoring sexy - you're a twisted man, Nick Stokes."  
  
Nick just laughed. "You're only saying that because you love me."  
  
"Yeah. I guess I do."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Can I come too?" Lyndsey was hopping excitedly from foot to foot, watching Catherine's face anxiously. Grissom, sitting at the kitchen table, smiled behind the newspaper he was reading. "Dr. Robbins has a swimming pool!"  
  
Catherine smiled affectionately at her daughter. "Well - I don't know," she started dramatically, "you don't really like swimming all that much."  
  
"Mo-o-om!" Lyndsey's agonized plea was of the type only little girls could make. "I love swimming! You can drop me of at Stacey's house on your way to work! And then I won't need a babysitter." Stacey was Lyndsey's best friend, and the two girls were planning a sleepover, as tomorrow was a PD day at school. "Please - oh please?"  
  
Catherine laughed. "Okay! Of course Dr. Robbins told us to bring you too - he's had the solar blanket on his pool, and he says the water is great. So go get your bathing suit and get ready."  
  
Lyndsey's excited whoop's as she ran towards her bedroom made Grissom chuckle. "Couldn't you have just told her that right off the bat, instead of making her beg like that?"  
  
Catherine smirked at him. "What? And give her an excuse not to stretch those dramatic muscles of hers? Not a chance!" She poured herself another cup of coffee, and sank into the empty seat across from Grissom. "Greg has his first appointment tomorrow."  
  
Grissom scowled. "I know."  
  
"How do you think he's doing?" Catherine kept her voice deliberately casual, watching intently as Grissom folded his paper and put it on the table, sighing.  
  
"Physically? He's doing better than I expected. Mentally? I just don't know. He's putting on a good show, but that's all I think it is - an act to get us off his back. He's not the same Greg." Grissom studied his fingernails intently. "He's lacking that certain - je ne sais quoi - he possessed. I'm worried about him."  
  
Catherine sighed. "I am too. Maybe you should talk to him, Gil."  
  
Grissom looked up, startled. "Me? I think you should talk to him - you're a mother."  
  
"And you're the closest thing to a dad he's got." Catherine responded, just as quickly. "Besides which, Greg really respects you, and you're the only one that was really able to connect with him at the hospital. I think anything that's said will mean more coming from you than it would coming from anyone else."  
  
"What if I make things worse?" Grissom shot a concerned glance at Catherine. "What if I say the wrong thing to him?"  
  
Catherine smiled gently. "Gil, if it comes from your heart, it's never the wrong thing."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Warrick woke in fits and starts, slowly realizing he was on the sofa. The soft sound of laughter emanating from his kitchen had him confused for a few minutes, and then he remembered - Katie and Nancy. Glancing quickly at his watch, he sat up, muttering under his breath. If he was going to put in an appearance at Dr. Robbins before meeting his Grams for dinner, he better get a move on.  
  
"I hope we didn't wake you, Mr. Brown." Katie's soft voice made intruded into his thoughts. Warrick stopped mid-stretch and turned towards her.  
  
"No, no, you didn't. And please - call me Warrick. It's a little odd for you to be calling Mr. Brown when you're living here." He smiled at Katie's sudden flush. "I have to get going anyway."  
  
"You have to leave already? It's only 2:30 in the afternoon. You've hardly slept at all." Katie frowned softly, a confused expression crossing her face as she realized she shouldn't be questioning him. "I'm sorry. I have no right -"  
  
Warrick interrupted her gently. "No, it's alright. Don't worry about it. Normally, I wouldn't be going anywhere, but a colleague is having a small gathering I promised to attend and I'm having an early dinner tonight with my grandmother. Are you and Nancy going to be all right here?"  
  
Katie nodded her head slowly. "This is really - it's all too much. You don't even know us! How will you feel comfortable leaving perfect strangers in your apartment?" Her voice was shaky and she looked at Warrick, eyes overly bright. "Especially after what I did?"  
  
"What did you do, Katie? What are you talking about?" Warrick looked at the young woman, concern in his eyes. Behind Katie, Nancy stood watching silently.  
  
"I didn't leave. I didn't protect Scotty. And I didn't stop them!" Katie was crying in earnest now, slight shoulders heaving. "I'm so ashamed!"  
  
Warrick walked over to her, gently placing his arms on her shoulders. "Nancy, I need to speak with your sister for a minute in private. Do you want to go and watch TV in the bedroom?" He smiled reassuringly at Nancy over Katie's shoulder, as the little girl headed down the hallway, for once not questioning. When Warrick heard the soft snick of the bedroom door closing, he gently pulled Katie over to the sofa and sat down beside her.  
  
"Katie, what could you have done to stop them?" His voice was amazingly gentle. "If you had tried, they would have killed you - and then what would have happened to Nancy? It's bad enough she lost her brother - what if she lost you too?"  
  
Katie looked up at him, tears staining her face. "But Scotty told me he wanted to leave. He told me - he told me - he thought they killed his friend because he was gay. His friend - his fried Eric - who wrote us the letter. And I think they killed Scotty because they suspected -"  
  
"He was gay, too?"  
  
Nancy nodded miserably. "I think so. I mean, I don't know. It didn't matter to me, I would have loved him anyway! If I had listened to him, he would still be alive! Why did I let us get sucked in?"  
  
Warrick leaned back onto the sofa, drawing Katie back with him, trying to comfort her as she cried. "You can't blame yourself. You were in an emotional place, recovering from the death of your parents. You and Scotty made the decision to go there together. You made the decision to stay together. I think Enoch tricked you - it's almost like he's running a cult out there - so how can you blame yourself? I think you're very brave, all things considered."  
  
"I'm not brave - I'm a coward. I hid from the world on the commune, I hid from what Scotty tried to tell me, and I ran when - when - the murders.." Her voice was suddenly no longer sad, but defeated. "I'm just as bad as they are."  
  
"No, you're not. You called 911 - you tried to help. So you were scared - big deal. You were in a terrible position. I don't know if I would have acted any differently. You didn't kill your brother - they did. And now - look at you. You've left the only home you've had for two years with hardly anything to your name. You're helping the police - providing an eyewitness account of the crime, telling us who was there, giving us information that will be invaluable in stopping them. In my mind, that's brave. I think your brother would be very proud of you." Warrick placed a gentle hand under Katie's chin, forcing her to look at him as he spoke.  
  
Katie looked at him intently, not quiet believing him, but listening anyway. Through her tears, she gave him a wobbly smile, quickly leaning forward and kissing him on the cheek. "You're a nice man, Warrick Brown."  
  
Warrick smiled in response. "Listen, I'm going to call my Grams and tell her I'll be bringing you and Nancy for dinner as well. Dr. Robbins won't mind if you come to his place with me, and Grissom is going to want to talk to you, especially about -Eric? - and your theory on why Scotty was killed. Coming back here to pick you up is way out of the way. So come with me."  
  
"But I - we -"  
  
Warrick, without conscious thought, brushed the back of his hand softly against the side of her face, tucking a strand of silky auburn hair behind her ear. "Come with me. It will be okay."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Dr. Robbins had the most annoying doorbell in the world. Greg scowled as he pushed it again, the annoying peels of some classical song he did not know echoing through the house. Behind him, Nick grinned at Sara.  
  
"That would drive me crazy."  
  
The three stood there silently for another moment, and Greg was just getting ready to ring again when he heard someone calling his name.  
  
"Greg! Greg! Over here!" Off to the side of the house, Alli was waving cheerfully through a wooden gate. "Everyone's in the back. I told Uncle Al I heard the doorbell, but -" she shrugged.  
  
Greg snorted. "How could you miss it?" He stepped away from the front door and headed towards the gate, Nick and Sara trailing after him. "You met Nick and Sara last night, right?"  
  
Alli nodded, quickly greeting the other two CSIs, before turning back to Greg. Sara nudged Nick in the ribs, grinning, but other wise stayed silent. Nick nudged her back.  
  
As Alli had stated, everyone was in the backyard. Dr. Robbins greeted the last arrivals heartily, quickly introducing his wife and their girls, Pam, Jenny and Perrie. They stood there talking companionably for a few moments, before Lyndsey ran up to Greg, shrieking.  
  
"Greg!" She threw herself at him, hugging him tightly around the waist. "You're here! I've been so worried about you!"  
  
Greg smiled faintly as he hugged the young girl, nervously looking at Alli. "Nothing to worry about, Lyns."  
  
"But you were in the hospital! Mommy cried. And Uncle Gil cried too. Uncle Gil never cries, so you must have been re-eal sick."  
  
"But I'm all better now, see?" Greg did a goofy little dance, spinning in a circle and doing 'jazz hands' to the delight of the young girl. "So, no need to worry, 'kay Lyns?"  
  
"Okay. You're heart is all fixed right?"  
  
Greg sighed, shooting another surreptitious glance at Alli. "All fixed. Just like the Tin Man."  
  
Nick, noticing the slump in Greg's shoulders, quickly distracted Lyndsey by grabbing her had lifting her high in the air. "Who's got on a bathing suit? Who wants Nicky to throw her in the pool?"  
  
At Lyndsey's excited squeals of "Me! Me!", Nick carried her away. Her sputtering scream, followed by a loud splash and laughter echoed through the yard. Greg turned blindly from Alli and Dr. Robbins, face stricken and eyes shadowed as he quickly looked at Sara, before walking blindly through the sliding doors into the kitchen.  
  
"What was that all about?" Alli's voice was soft, and she looked at Sara in confusion. "Is Greg sick?"  
  
Sara, watching Greg's retreating form, smiled sadly. "He's had some problems lately." She looked at Alli suddenly, standing a little straighter. "But it's not my story to tell. If you want to know what's wrong with Greg, you'll have to ask him yourself."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Alli found Greg sitting in Uncle Al's favorite chair - a ratty tweed recliner Aunt Judy kept banishing to the garage, only to find it returned to the family room the next day. He was sitting in the room in partial darkness, the drawn shades preventing natural light from filling the room. His eyes were shut, and Alli noticed immediately the tenseness in his shoulders and arms.  
  
"Hey. I found you."  
  
Greg ignored her.  
  
She tried again. "Greg. Do you want to talk about it?"  
  
"Talk about what?" Greg's voice was low and harsh. "You must have heard the story by now."  
  
"I've heard nothing. Nothing except what Lyndsey said to you. Were you sick?" Alli sat on the corner of the large coffee table, immediately in front of Greg. She was looking at him intently, and Greg could feel her gaze burning through him even though his eyes were still closed.  
  
"Was I sick? Still am." His voice was bitter. "Quit looking at me."  
  
"No. Why were you in the hospital?"  
  
Greg sighed, and cracked an eye open to glare at her malevolently. "That's really none of your fucking business, is it Alli?"  
  
Alli stared back at him just as intently, barely flinching at his words. "No. It isn't any of my fucking business at all. But that doesn't mean I don't want to know. So, you can tell me or not as you wish, but I'll find out from someone. I'd rather hear it from you."  
  
"Fine. Long story short - I was working a case, our main suspect thought we were on to him, and he drugged me with an illegal substance that damaged my heart. I had to have surgery, and now walk around with a fucking piece of metal in my chest, attached to wires to kick start my heart if it goes berserk. Wanna see the scar?"  
  
Before Alli could respond, Greg sat up and angrily whipped his T-Shirt up his chest. The livid scar over his heart stood out in stark relief against the whiteness of his skin, the coarse stitches still visible against the red puckers of healing skin. Alli recoiled at his sudden movements, but leaned in to take a better look at the scar. She lifted a gentle hand and lightly traced her hand down the side of the scar, her face sympathetic.  
  
"Greg - I don't know what to say."  
  
Greg drew his t-shirt down and leaned back into the chair, shutting his eyes again. He suddenly felt defeated. "Don't say anything. I'm sorry I yelled at you - it's not your fault."  
  
"How long ago did it happen?"  
  
"Two and a half weeks. I've been out of the hospital since Thursday."  
  
"It's healing nicely."  
  
Greg snorted. "Huh. Great. Healing nicely. Thank you, Florence Nightingale."  
  
Alli leaned forward angrily. "What the hell is your problem?"  
  
"What's my problem? I'm 28 years old and I have batteries in my chest - that's my problem! I'm like the fucking energizer bunny!" Greg was suddenly angry again. "What do you think my problem is?"  
  
"I think you're feeling sorry for yourself." Alli's response was calm. Greg's eyes snapped open, and he stared at her in disbelief.  
  
"Pardon me?"  
  
"You heard me. Self-pity - that's you're problem."  
  
"Don't you think I have the right to feel sorry for myself?" Greg felt his voice raise, and knew his heart was pounding. He willed himself to take a couple of deep breaths and calm down before the defibrillator kicked in and made things even worse. "Don't you think I have the right to feel sorry for myself?" he asked again.  
  
"Maybe a little. But listen - you're not dead. You still have full mobility of all your limbs - and you have friends that really seem to care about you. It's not like you're going through this all by yourself."  
  
Greg didn't respond at first, instead focusing his gaze on a spot on the wall over Alli's left shoulder. Eventually, he spoke. "I thought you were an artist, not a psychiatrist. Don't pull some psych-babble on me - you're not trained for it, and it won't work. And you don't know anything about me."  
  
Alli sighed. "I know you're hurting. But you're right - I can't help you. Only you can do that." The two sat silently for a few minutes, before Alli braced her hands on her knees and stood. "No use sitting here in the dark. Uncle Al should be finishing the BBQ soon - before we head back out, want to see some of my work?"  
  
Greg blinked at the sudden change in the conversation, and smiled weakly at Alli. "Nice segue."  
  
She grinned back. "I'm known for my abilities to derail a perfectly fine angst session. C'mon - I have the feeling you'll give me an honest opinion of my stuff. Not like my family," she grimaced good-naturedly, "who think I'm better than Van Gogh and Rodin combined."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Warrick was speaking with Grissom quietly in the corner of Dr. Robbins deck. Nancy had been drawn into a conversation with Sara and Catherine, although she wasn't really participating, and Lindsey had immediately snagged Nancy into an impromptu game of tag.  
  
Katie's anxious gaze kept jumping from her little sister, running exuberantly through the yard after Lindsey, Nick in hot pursuit, to Warrick. His face was intent as he spoke with Mr. Grissom, hands gesturing every once in a while in her direction, as if making a point. Grissom looked at her a couple of times; his expression closed, and continued his conversation with Warrick.  
  
Catherine and Sara both noticed Katie's preoccupation with their friend, and looked at each other dubiously. Both recognized the signs of a burgeoning crush, and neither knew what - if anything - they should do about it. Sara studied Katie much as she studied trace elements under a microscope - with an intensity of single-minded purpose that was scary. She determined Katie was about 5' 6", and really needed to gain some weight - she was so skinny she looked like the slightest puff of wind would snap her twig-like frame in half. She had shoulder length auburn hair, slightly wavy, and really beautiful - though pale - skin. Her eyes were a deep set hazel, and her features were finely drawn. If her face wasn't etched with pain, she'd probably be very pretty. Sara frowned.  
  
"How was Warrick's place? Did you get some rest?" Catherine's voice broke into Sara's thoughts, and she waited with interest to see what Katie's response would be. Katie merely nodded, shooting another glance at Warrick.  
  
"He's a very nice person," she replied softly.  
  
"Very nice." Sara agreed. "Some would say - too nice." She knew her comment was biting, but she didn't really care.  
  
Katie looked at her sadly, her eyes suddenly clouded. "I know I don't deserve it. You don't need to tell me."  
  
Catherine shot Sara a dirty look, before reaching out a hand and squeezing Katie's arm gently. "That's not what Sara meant. Is it, Sara?"  
  
Sara flushed guiltily. "No. I'm sorry - that didn't come out the way I meant. Warrick's a great guy. I didn't mean to imply -"  
  
"Yes, you did." Katie interrupted her. "I'd say the same thing too, if one of my friends was helping a - a- murderer, like me."  
  
"You didn't murder anyone, Katie." Catherine's response was genuine.  
  
"No - but I watched. That's just as bad. I don't know why he wants to help me."  
  
"Maybe because he knows you were stuck in a situation you didn't know how to get out of." Sara's smile was genuine this time, and she reached out tentatively and squeezed Katie's other arm. "I'm sorry I said what I said. Sometimes my bark is worse than my bite - ask anyone."  
  
Katie smiled at her shyly, before letting her gaze drift over to Warrick again. Nancy had run up to him, and he had scooped her up easily, laughing into her smiling face as he finished his conversation with Grissom. Turning towards the three ladies he caught them looking at him, and smiled, winking in exaggeration at them. Catherine smiled when she noticed his gaze rest a moment longer than absolutely necessary on Katie, grinning in amusement when Katie blushed. Well - well - well. Things were getting interesting.  
  
_____  
  
Author's note: Hoowy - long chapter. So many characters, so little time! For those of you asking for more Nick and Sara, I'm working on it - same thing for Grissom and Catherine. Next chapter - dinner with Grams, an interesting discovery, Alli finds an apartment and back to the case! 


	20. DINNER WITH GRAMS

XX - DINNER WITH GRAMS  
  
Greg followed Alli through the kitchen, and into the garage, smiling when a small furry body immediately started rubbing itself against his legs, meowing in earnest..  
  
"Hey little fella. Locked in the garage, are you?" He picked the kitten up, stroking its soft head.  
  
"Actually, he's mine. Aunt Judy's allergic, so he has to stay in the garage until I find an apartment." She reached backwards and chucked the kitten affectionately under the chin. "My sister gave him to me before I left, so I would have at least one friend in Las Vegas."  
  
"He's cute. What's his name?"  
  
"Goliath. Don't laugh. He's a runty little guy, and I wanted him to have a big name, one that would inspire him to grow." She grinned. "Here we go. I had to unpack a couple of pieces because I didn't want them to warp on the frame."  
  
Greg smiled as she lifted a large drop sheet, the kitten contentedly purring in his arms. Alli quickly flicked through the frames, pulling out a couple of the smaller ones to show him. The first canvas was a wash of pale tones, seemingly tinged in sepia, although the underlying colors were still strangely vivid. She had painted an endless stretch of flowers, stretching into the distance, with an old farmhouse in the far corner, weather beaten and shattered - Greg automatically felt a visceral tug.  
  
"That's beautiful. I really love the colors. And the old farmhouse looks so desolate and lonely against the flowers - almost like it's sad."  
  
Alli nodded her head thoughtfully, smiling. "That's exactly the feeling I was going for. It's my grandparents' old farmhouse. No one lives there anymore. I was sad when I painted it. What about this one?"  
  
The second canvas was just as stunning. Instead of a large open plain, it was an extreme close-up of a broken silver locket, moss-encroached and hanging from an old tree stump. Alli had painted a silvery-gold dapple of sunlight through the overhanging cover of trees, and the whole picture had a regretful feel about it. Greg smiled when he saw it, reaching out a hand to run a finger gently across the canvas.  
  
"This is - breathtaking. You're really talented." He looked at the second painting again. "This dappling effect - the sun through the trees - illuminating the locket. You should be painting fulltime."  
  
"You're not just saying that?"  
  
"Absolutely not. Maybe once you're settled you can show me more of your work."  
  
"I'd like that. A lot." Alli grinned at Greg, and Greg grinned back oddly lighthearted.  
  
"So - I guess we should get back to the party. Everyone will be angry at me for stealing away the guest of honor."  
  
"Yeah. I guess we should." She stepped forward and gently took Goliath from Greg. "Sorry fella. I'll come back and visit you later. So - any suggestions on where I should start looking for an apartment?"  
  
Greg shrugged as he followed Alli back through the kitchen and out the patio doors. "Depends on what you're looking for. Obviously, cat friendly. I would assume close to the high school and room to paint?"  
  
Alli nodded. "And in my budget. If that's possible."  
  
Nick had walked over and joined them when they stepped out, catching the tale-end of the conversation. "Why don't you sublet her your apartment Greg? You're not there right now, so why pay the rent? When you're ready to move back, you can let Alli know and she can look for an apartment then."  
  
"You have an apartment you're not living in?" Alli tried not to sound too excited. "Would you consider subletting?"  
  
"I don't suppose it would hurt to show it to you," Greg replied. "It's fully furnished though. But it fits your criteria. If you want to take a look at it, I could take you there tomorrow afternoon."  
  
"I'd love to see it - it would be like an answer to my prayers. I hate apartment hunting! So, when tomorrow?"  
  
"Uhm - you teaching?"  
  
"Don't start until Wednesday."  
  
"Okay then. How about 4:30? We can meet there."  
  
Nick interrupted Greg. "You can't at 4:30, dude. That's your first appointment with Dr. Jansen."  
  
Greg sighed in exasperation. "Right. Thanks Dad. How's 6:00, then?"  
  
* * * * *  
  
Katie followed Warrick nervously into New Havens Senior Complex, holding Nancy's hand tightly. Nancy had had an interesting time at Dr. Robbins, and she knew Nancy had loved it. The little girl had babbled excitedly about her new friend Lyndsey the entire drive to Warrick's grandmother.  
  
She still could not get over how gracious everyone at Dr. Robbins had been - she had felt uncomfortable only briefly, during the odd conversation with Sara and Catherine, but that had quickly passed in the face of the light hearted bantering that followed. Katie wondered what it would be like to have friends like that.  
  
Warrick had been mostly silent once they got in the car, contributing only when Nancy spoke to him, lost in a world of silence the rest of the time. He seemed to have taken on a cloak of sadness the closer they got to their destination, and Katie had been curious as to what the problem was. But she hadn't asked - too afraid he would respond it was Katie who was bothering him and he had made a mistake bringing her.  
  
She and Nancy stood slightly off to Warrick's side as he stopped in front of a numbered apartment, and knocked softly. Katie smiled when she heard a muffled voice through the doorway exclaiming 'That's my Ricky!' before the door was pulled open and a sprightly old lady stepped into the hallway into Warrick's waiting hug.  
  
"Ricky! I knew it was you." She stepped back and fondly patted his arm, before turning a steady gaze to Nancy and Katie, her smile warm. "And these must be your friends! Well, don't just stand there - come on in. Jeannie has a terrific meal all ready for us, and afterwards we're going to go a sing in the lounge."  
  
Warrick smiled fondly at his grandmother, standing aside to let Nancy and Katie follow the older lady into her tiny apartment. Katie felt a small jolt of pleasure as his warm hand fell to the small of her back, gallantly guiding her into the small foyer.  
  
"This is Katie and Nancy, Grams. Girls, this is grams."  
  
"And that's all anyone calls me anymore!" Grams interrupted. "Jeannie tried calling me Lorna once, but never again, did you dear?"  
  
The young women bustling around in back of Grams grinned. "You're a hard women to cross, Grams. And dinner is ready - Doctor said you had to have an early night, so if you want to go and play the piano, eat now."  
  
"Yes dear." Grams rolled her eyes at Jeannie, winking at Nancy when the little girl giggled.  
  
"She sounds like your mom!"  
  
"I know! But she's a good girl; just looking out for me. Come then, sit down everyone. You sit here besides me, Nancy. Warrick, you sit here - Katie beside him, Jeannie beside Nancy, and we'll leave Delia's place at the end of the table." Katie sat in the spot Grams had indicated, watching as the older woman walked slowly towards a shelf, reaching for a photo and placing it lovingly at the empty place at the end of the table before moving to her own chair. "Gather hands, everyone, and let's thank the dear Lord for this blessed day."  
  
Katie watched in amazement as Grams took Warrick's and Nancy's hands into her own, gasping in surprise as Warrick grasped her free hand and nodded across the table at Jeannie, who was waiting to link with her. When they were all joined by a circle of hands, Gram began.  
  
"It's us again, God, coming to pray - We thank you for this blessed day. We thank you for family and friends, old and new. We thank you for this bountiful meal and hearts full of joy. Please be with us and guide us in our daily lives, letting us find the joy you hide everywhere. Help us let go of the pain of loss. And remember us to our dear Delia, our special angel, who we know is singing your praises in the garden of heaven. Amen."  
  
Nancy's small voice piped up before the link was broken. "And Scotty too, God! Let Scotty and Delia sing together. Amen."  
  
Grams squeezed Nancy's hand firmly, smiling at the young girl. "Who's Scotty, child?"  
  
"My brother. He's dead. But I won't be so sad if I know he's in heaven with Delia. Because I'm friends with her brother, so he should be friends with her."  
  
Katie glanced at Warrick in surprise. "I didn't know you had a sister, Warrick."  
  
Warrick smiled at her sadly as he passed the salad. "She died twelve years ago today."  
  
Katie's glance was stricken as she looked at him, eyes welling in sudden sympathy. "I'm sorry. Was she ill?"  
  
Warrick didn't respond, but Grams did. "No, dear. She was murdered in South Africa on a church mission."  
  
"That's - that's - terrible." Katie's voice betrayed her emotion, and she looked back to Warrick. "I'm sorry," she whispered again, knowing the sentiment was futile.  
  
Both Katie and Warrick sat silently for the remainder of dinner, listening to the conversation between Nancy, Jeannie and Grams but not participating. Katie felt like she was moving on automatic pilot, smiling where appropriate while inside her heart was bleeding - for Scotty, for Delia, for Warrick himself. He was too nice a man to have had to face such sadness. Katie felt like crying everytime she looked at him.  
  
After dinner, they all walked to the lounge and Grams walked joyfully to an old upright piano, fingers caressing the keys lovingly. "You sing, Katie child?" she smiled, "If you do join in on the songs you know." With graceful movements belying her age, she began playing - Amazing Grace was the first song, and Gram sang it joyfully, her old voice not as strong as it would have been in her youth, but beautiful none the less. From there, she moved on to How Great Thou Art, When Peace Like a River, and By the Sea of Crystal. Katie sang along softly to the songs she knew, smiling when she heard Warrick's voice join in. Several other seniors had gathered around the piano singing as well. After several hymns, Grams stopped playing and turned to Warrick.  
  
"My old hands are getting tired, Warrick. Do you have any new songs to play for me?" She slid off the piano bench, smiling as Jeannie quickly helped her to an empty glider. Nancy quickly ran to her side, climbing into her lap at the old woman's invitation, eyes sleepy.  
  
Warrick smiled at his Grams tenderly, and stepped towards the piano, cracking his knuckles. "One song, Grams. And then we have to go - I'm supposed to be at work in 40 minutes."  
  
Katie watched enthralled as Warrick's strong hands started running over the keys, fingers caressing the ivories as his strong baritone filled the room.  
  
"This looks familiar,  
  
Vaguely familiar.  
  
Almost unreal yet  
  
It's too soon to feel yet.  
  
Close to me soul,  
  
And yet so far away.  
  
I'm going to go back there someday.  
  
Sunrises, night falls.  
  
Sometimes, the sky calls.  
  
Is that a song there?  
  
And do I belong there?  
  
I've never been there,  
  
But I plan to stay.  
  
I'm going to go back there someday.  
  
Come and go with me,  
  
It's more fun to share.  
  
We'll both be completely  
  
At home in mid-air.  
  
We're flying, not walking  
  
On featherless wings.  
  
We can hold onto love -  
  
Like invisible strings.  
  
There's not a word yet,  
  
For old friends who've just met.  
  
Part heaven, part space -  
  
Or have I found my place?  
  
You can just visit  
  
But I plan to stay.  
  
I'm going to go back there -  
  
God, please take me back there -  
  
I have to get back there -  
  
Someday."  
  
The gentle words floated away, and the piano slowly faded. Warrick smiled at Grams as she clapped delightedly, along with several of the other people gathered around, rising to his feet in a little mock bow.  
  
"And now, we must go. C'mon sweetheart -" this was said to Nancy, as he leaned over and kissed his grandmother's weathered cheek, "I'll carry you out. Love you, Grams."  
  
"I love you too, Ricky." Grams reached up and patted his face tenderly. "Delia would be proud of you." She turned her smile to Katie. "Make my Ricky bring you and Nancy back to visit me soon, child. And come here and give an old lady a kiss."  
  
Katie stepped forward and dutifully kissed Grams on the cheek, smiling in surprise as skinny arms wrapped around her in a quick hug as Grams whispered in her ear, "I like you, child, and my Ricky does too. I can tell. Treat him well."  
  
Katie glanced sideways at Warrick, hoping he hadn't heard his grandmother's soft words, a slow flush climbing her face. "It was a pleasure meeting you," she whispered back, standing slowly as Grams released her.  
  
Warrick reached out a hand, placing it on her back in the gentlemanly fashion that was uniquely his own. Katie smiled softly at him, noticing that Nancy was half asleep, arms wrapped around his neck, legs wrapped around his waist and head drooping tiredly on his shoulder. With another bye to his grandmother, Warrick guided her back to his car.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Grissom was waiting for Warrick when he arrived back at the lab. "I did a quick search in the missing persons database, searching all names and all spellings of Eric, reports filed from two years to 18 months in the state of Nevada. I only found one person - Eric O'Reily. Guess what his last known address is?" His gaze flicked quickly to Katie through the breakroom window, and back to Warrick.  
  
Warrick sighed. "No guessing necessary. Katie and Nancy are in the lounge, by the way. Can you talk to Katie now, and then I'll take them home. Nancy's exhausted."  
  
Grissom cocked an eyebrow at him. "'Take them home,' Warrick? Is there something going on I should know about?"  
  
"No. Nothing. They're just - emotionally fragile right now - both of them. I don't want them getting too stressed." Warrick's voice was defensive.  
  
"Just as long as you remember they're involved in this case. Katie's a key witness. And Brass is working on a safe home. There are some boundaries there, Warrick."  
  
"Is this a lecture?"  
  
"Does it need to be?" Grissom cocked an eyebrow. "Listen, I trust you Warrick. But you've always been a sucker for the damsel in distress, and you like kids. There's a damsel, there's a kid. Try to remain neutral. Be Switzerland."  
  
"Switzerland. Huh." Warrick grimaced. "Should I get Katie for you?"  
  
"Please. And Nancy, too. I want to talk to both of them."  
  
________  
  
Author's Note: The song Warrick sings is from the Muppet Movie - it's the song Gonzo sings in the desert after the bus breaks down. What can I say? I love that movie! I forget what the song is called, but it was written by Paul Williams (and those of you who know who he is - good for you! Children of the '70s unite!) Next chapter - more case, Grissom and Greg have a chat, lots of angst. 


	21. GRISSOM AND GREG

XXI - GRISSOM AND GREG  
  
Grissom gazed at Katie intently, not intending to make her squirm under his prolonged stare but managing to do just that. Katie looked decidedly uncomfortable; her face drawn as she nervously twirled her hair around her fingers, biting her lip. Behind Grissom, Warrick leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed. Every time Katie glanced in his direction, she smiled softly. Grissom was almost positive that behind him, Warrick was smiling back.  
  
"Katie, I'm going to show you and Nancy a couple of items we found at the crime scenes, and I'd like you to tell me if you recognize anything. Then I'm going to need to talk to you alone, Katie, about some of the things you spoke with Warrick about." Grissom smiled reassuringly at the young woman, sliding into an empty seat beside Brass and across the table from her, clearing his throat as he opened up a file folder he was holding.  
  
"Have you ever seen this before?" He slid the note that had been left at Lifestyles a couple of days before the murders across the table. Katie looked at it curiously.  
  
"It looks like something you'd make in an art class or school."  
  
"It was left at Lifestyles a couple of days before Scotty - died." Grissom kept his tone neutral, his gaze shifting to Nancy subtly, acknowledging her silently. He didn't want to upset her by getting graphic about her brother's murder. "Have you ever seen it before?"  
  
Katie shook her head, but Nancy piped up. "Momma Rebekah and some of the big girls made lots of stuff like this in home school."  
  
"Lots of stuff like this?" Grissom smiled at the little girl seriously. "Did they make this one?"  
  
Nancy shrugged. "I don't know. I can't read. But Momma Rebekah puts them all in the cubby in the school room."  
  
Grissom cocked an eyebrow at Brass. "Guess we'll be going back to the commune."  
  
Brass grunted. "Guess so. Shall I bring in the ladies for questioning as well?"  
  
Grissom nodded, and Brass sighed.  
  
"Mobley's gonna love this."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Nick was leaning against the door of the lounge, arms crossed casually, waiting for Catherine to fill her coffee travel mug. Beside her, Greg sniffed appreciatively before scowling at his Sobe Citrus drink.  
  
"Where are you two off to?" he asked, his question for both Catherine and Nick.  
  
Catherine sighed. "Back to the commune. New clues - picking up some more people. Lots of fun."  
  
"Grissom's staying here - talking to Katie. Warrick and Sara have gone to work on the windows from Magikal," Nick added.  
  
"And I'll just sit here and twiddle my thumbs." Greg mumbled under his breath. He quickly pasted a false smile on his face when Catherine turned a concerned gaze to him. "Joking! Joking! I'll keep running fingerprints - there still over 50 sets to compare."  
  
Catherine sighed, a small frown on her face. "What you're doing here is invaluable Greg. I know you want to get out more, but you're not ready yet. Just be patient, it will happen."  
  
"I know. I know. Health comes first, blah - blah - blah and yada - yada- yada, so on and so forth. I understand." Greg tried to keep his tone light, but neither Catherine nor Nick were fooled. Nick smiled at his friend in understanding.  
  
"When you talk to Jansen tomorrow, ask him if you can go out to secured crime scenes - maybe he'll let you. In the meantime, we gotta roll Cath."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Warrick had taken Nancy at Catherine's suggestion back to her office, putting together a make-shift bed on the small sofa for the little girl. Since Lyndsey spent a lot of time there, Catherine had all the necessities.  
  
Sara, standing in the doorway waiting for Warrick, watched him tuck the blanket around the tiny child, gently smoothing her hair back from her face, exhorting her to go to sleep. It was impossible to miss how attached Nancy had become to Warrick - and he too her - in the short time they had known each other.  
  
"Goodnight kiss?" she asked sleepily, and Warrick, smilingly complied, kissing her gently on the forehead.  
  
"You know I'm just down the hall, right? And when Grissom is finished with your sister I'll take you home."  
  
"I know." Nancy's voice was sleepy. "Will you sing me a bedtime song?"  
  
Warrick glanced sideways at Sara, slightly embarrassed, and shrugged. He was going to refuse, but the expectant look on Nancy's face made the words die in his throat.  
  
"Sure. I'll sing you a song my Grams used to sign to my sister when she was little. It's called Lavender Blue. But you have to close your eyes while I sing, 'kay?"  
  
Nancy nodded, her eyes already drifting shut, and Warrick started softly singing.  
  
~Lavender blue, dilly, dilly  
  
Lavender green  
  
If I were king, dilly, dilly  
  
I'd need a queen  
  
Who told me so, dilly, dilly  
  
Who told me so?  
  
I told myself, dilly, dilly  
  
I told me so  
  
If your dilly, dilly heart  
  
Feels a dilly, dilly way  
  
And if you'll answer "yes"  
  
In a pretty little church  
  
On a dilly, dilly day  
  
You'll be wed in a dilly, dilly dress of  
  
Lavender blue, dilly, dilly  
  
Lavender green  
  
Then I'll be king, dilly, dilly  
  
And you'll be my queen  
  
Lavender blue, dilly, dilly  
  
Lavender green  
  
Then I'll be king, dilly, dilly  
  
And you'll be my queen~  
  
Nancy was asleep. Sighing softly, Warrick rose to his feet and turned towards the doorway. Sara was smiling at him gently, whispering as they left Catherine's office, "I didn't know you sang."  
  
Warrick shrugged. "There's a lot you don't know about me, Sara," but he smiled when he said this. "My Grams had me in singing in her church choir as soon as I was old enough to carry a tune."  
  
"Huh. I didn't know you went to church."  
  
"I don't. Not anymore, anyways," he opened the doorway to the lab they would be working in, quickly studying the glass Sara and Nick had already managed to piece together. "You guys have been doing a good job with this."  
  
"Thanks. And don't change the subject. Why don't you go to church anymore?"  
  
"I had a little falling out with God." Warrick's tone was carefully neutral. "Grams wasn't too pleased when I left."  
  
"Would you ever go back?"  
  
"What's with the questions, Sara?" he looked at her in annoyance. "Do you go to church?"  
  
"Nope. Never have." Sara was looking at him seriously, her brown eyes probing. "I study religion, though - Christianity, Judaism, Muslim - all the others. I find it fascinating."  
  
"Huh." Warrick's response was non-committal, and he started sorting through some of the larger pieces that hadn't been fit together yet. Sara worked beside him, silent for a few moments.  
  
"So. Why did you leave?"  
  
Warrick rolled his eyes. "Will you just let it go?"  
  
He felt her shrug beside him. "Listen, we're friends right? Well, then? Before 20 minutes ago I never even knew you could sing, and I didn't know you had a sister. But Nancy - who you've only known for less than two days, knew. And I'll warrant Katie knows too. If you can tell virtual strangers, why can't you tell me?"  
  
Warrick ran a hand across his hair in frustration. "Fine. I left because my sister was murdered on a church mission in South Africa. She was convinced God was calling her to go, so she went and died for her efforts. Happy?"  
  
He was still looking at the glass when he felt her gentle touch on his shoulder. "I'm sorry for your loss, Warrick. That must have been hard. So, you blame God for your sisters' death?"  
  
Warrick shrugged. "I blame the man that shot her because she was black. I don't know if I blame God anymore of not." He was silent for a few moments, brows thoughtfully furrowed. "So many terrible things are done in the name of religion - throughout history wars have been fought and people persecuted for their beliefs or non-beliefs; the color of their skin - sexual preference. When I was younger it was easier to blame God, but now that I'm older - I think I blame the people who twist religion to fit their own prejudices."  
  
He felt Sara looking at him intently, and he turned to her. "I was angry about Delia for a long time. She was a beautiful girl - we were twins, and she and Grams were the only family I had. I've had her buried inside for a long time now, because remembering was just too painful. But I've been thinking about her a lot lately - and you know what I'm remembering?"  
  
Sara shook her head softly.  
  
"I'm remembering her smile and her laughter. I'm remembering how beautiful she always looked standing in the front of our church and singing for the congregation. I'm remembering how happy she was when she left for South Africa, convinced she was making the world a better place." Warrick smiled sadly at the memories flooding his mind, and Sara smiled back.  
  
"Your memories of her keep her alive. It's good to remember."  
  
"Yeah. It is." Warrick looked back to glass. "So. Should we get cracking here?"  
  
* * * * *  
  
Catherine and Nick were following an unhappy Rebekah to the small school room established at the commune. She had been extremely agitated when the two criminalists had returned to the commune, accusing them of harassing her 'family' and threatening not to comply. Nick had simply stared at her coldly until she had stopped talking.  
  
"We have a warrant. So, we're going to search whether you want us here or not. That being said, if you take us where we want to go, we'll be able to leave all the quicker. Otherwise, we'll just have to search - everything. Right, Cath?"  
  
Catherine nodded grimly. "All we're looking for right now is the school room. But this warrant gives us the right to search everywhere. You going to help us, or shall we start in your room?"  
  
Rebekah had caved. Muttering under her breath, back ram-rod straight, she had indicated they should follow her. O'Reilly trailed a little behind Nick and Catherine, leaving several of his men to round up the women and children to transport them to the office for questioning.  
  
Catherine realized Rebekah was leading them to the barn. Walking through the doors they quickly followed her up a thin set of rickety stairs and into the school room. Desks and play mats of various sizes lined the floors. Painted along one wall was the alphabet, and along the other the Ten Commandments. Colorful artwork hung everywhere, and the area was surprisingly clean, considering livestock occupied the bottom floor.  
  
Leaving Rebakah to stand in the doorway, the two CSIs did a quick inspection of the room. Behind what was obviously the teachers desk, Nick found a small cubby with several notes in it - all made in the same fashion as the one found at Lifestyles.  
  
Catherine, who was opening up the drawers on a large metal filing cabinet, made an interesting discovery of her own.  
  
"Nick. Come here." Shining her flashlight into the drawer, she illuminated several different pamphlets, neatly stacked with elastic wrapped around them to separate them. Near the front was a pamphlet titled 'Minorities and the Mark of Cain.'  
  
Nick sighed in disgust. "Looks familiar. See these other ones? ''Mysticism, New Age and the Devil' - 'Hitler Was Right' - 'The Case for Euthanizing Mixed-Race Children.'" His face tightened painfully, and his jaw was clenched. "I'm glad we came and left Warrick back at the lab. This is sick."  
  
They quickly bagged what they had found, both hesitant to even touch the pamphlets almost as if they feared they would be contaminated. Nick also confiscated the computer and printer hooked up over in the corner. As he unhooked it, Catherine wandered over to the bookshelves, studying the titles. "I guess there're publishers for everything," she muttered under her breath. She turned to Nick and tossed over her shoulders, "All little kids would learn in this classroom is how to hate."  
  
From her position at the doorway, Rebekah bristled. "Our children learn God's laws. We don't hate; we correct."  
  
Catherine grabbed a book from the shelf, flipping through the pages of the booklet in disgust. It was a story, written for younger children and full of glossy illustrations, titled 'Why Timmy is Wrong'. The short summary on the back indicated it was a story to help explain to younger children why God viewed children of mixed-races and minorities as mistakes; wrong in nature. "You don't correct; you warp. You're brainwashing your children to grow up to be racists and religious extremists. It's sickening."  
  
Rebekah shrugged. "You can think that all you want, but you don't know. Enoch says we are God's chosen people."  
  
Nick grunted slightly as he stood, the printer in one arm and the CPU tucked firmly under the other. "I think God has better taste then that."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Greg. Can I see you in my office for a minute?" Grissom's voice caught Greg slightly by surprise, and the young man was gratified his heart wasn't pounding quite as hard as it had when Dr. Robbins had surprised him just nights before.  
  
"Sure thing, Grissom." Standing and stretching absently, he quickly scanned a new fingerprint and left the software running, before following Grissom down the hall and into his office.  
  
He smiled nervously when Grissom closed the door and indicated for him to sit in one of the empty chair across from his desk. Sighing slightly, Grissom sank into the one beside it and looked at his hands.  
  
After almost a minute had passed in dead silence, Greg decided to break the silence. "Well, if you're finished with me here I'll head back to the lab," he teased.  
  
Grissom looked at him and barely cracked a smile. "Listen, Greg. I just wanted to talk to you about how you're doing. I don't know where to start."  
  
"Then don't. Start I mean. Things are great." He pasted a patently false smile on his face.  
  
"Don't lie to me, Greg. I know you too well, and you're putting on a good act - but I'm concerned."  
  
Greg's smile faltered. "Act? What act?"  
  
Grissom didn't respond for a few seconds, carefully considering his words. "You're pulling away from us. It's like you're shutting down; shutting off." He looked at Greg seriously as he said this, studying the young man's reaction and sighing at his quickly shuttered expression.  
  
"Don't get me wrong, you still joke around. You're still the best lab tech I've ever had. But your - exuberance - is gone. And you might act happy, but you don't look happy - not where it counts."  
  
"So, does this mean you want me to play Back Flag in the lab again?" Greg's tone was sarcastic.  
  
"Listen, Greg. Sarcasm isn't going to help. But talking might. Do you want to talk to me about it?" Grissom's voice was gentle and understanding and Greg was scared to look at him. Instead, he stared intently at his knee, counting the little cross-weaves in the fabric of his jeans. Finally, he spoke.  
  
"What do you want me to say? This is hard. It hurts. Sometimes I wish Oscar had just killed me and gotten it over with," his voice was broken.  
  
"Don't say that, Greg. You don't want that."  
  
"How do you know?" Greg looked at Grissom, sudden tears in his eyes. "I sure as hell don't want this!" he pointed to his chest emphatically. "You guys are all supportive now, but what happens when this condition interferes with my job? When I can't run a test for you because the electronic pulses are too high? When the defibrillator goes off in the field and you guys have to deal with me instead of processing a crime scene? What happens when I become a liability to you?" his voice suddenly became softer. "What happens when you don't want me anymore?"  
  
Grissom looked at Greg with growing shock. "Greg. Listen to me. We already know there are certain tests you may not be able to run - we're aware of them, and we'll work around them. If something happens to you in the field, we'll deal with it. You have never been a liability to us and you never will be. And we will always want you here. There is nothing so big it cannot be overcome as long as your family is behind you. We're your family Greg. We're behind you."  
  
"Every family I ever had sent me away. Why would you be any different?"  
  
"We love you, Greg." Grissom smiled when Greg started. "I'm going to tell you something else - you may think it's better to build walls to keep us out, but those walls won't protect you. All they'll do is lock you away from life. Before you know it, twenty years will have passed, and you'll be - me."  
  
Grissom leaned forwards, hands clasped and elbows propped on his knees. "I surrounded myself with walls too, thinking that I'd rather be lonely than risk being hurt. But that's not living, Greg. Life is risk. You taught me that - you and the rest of the team. I've been slowly tearing down my walls, and it's good to be living again. So don't start building yours."  
  
"But - my heart -"  
  
"Is still there, Greg. If it wasn't, why would you be trying so hard to protect it? You cannot break what you do not have."  
  
Greg snorted wetly, rubbing the cuff of his lab coat across his eyes. "Yes, Buddha."  
  
Grissom smiled, reaching out a hand and squeezing Greg's knee. "You see? Was that so hard?"  
  
"I don't know," Greg shrugged and looked at Grissom, suddenly embarrassed. "Man, I'm cried out."  
  
"I noticed. Listen, Greg - if you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here. I will always be here for you. Okay?"  
  
"Okay," Greg sighed. He looked at Grissom and smiled, suddenly, monstrously happy. "Okay."  
  
________  
  
Author's Notes: hey everyone. Thanks for your patience. I know I'm not knocking these out as fast as I usually do, but these chapters are intense and I pick them apart and re-write them each several times before I'm actually happy enough with them to post. PLUS - busy season is upon me - from now until Christmas, all hell breaks loose in my office, so I'm working 12 - 18 hours a day. Next chapter - a confrontation, Dr. Jansen, Alli at Greg's apartment.  
  
In case anyone is wondering, the book I reference here from the school room is indeed a book - I've had the disgusting misfortune to have seen it once. It's really very sad that stuff like that can get published. 


	22. CONFRONTATIONS

XXII - CONFRONTATIONS  
  
Grissom walked with Greg back towards the lab, neither saying much of anything. Grissom, intuitively understanding Greg's need for silence, let the young man contemplate their discussion without interruption. Finally reaching the lab door, Grissom told Greg he was going to see how Warrick and Sara were doing on the glass windows, leaving him with the firm admonition to page him if anything checked out with the prints.  
  
Katie was sitting in the lounge, staring at nothing, when Grissom walked by. Backing up, he looked at her through the doorway, before entering. "You can pour yourself a coffee, you know."  
  
Katie looked at him and smiled weakly. "Thanks." But she made no move toward the percolator. Sighing, Grissom grabbed two empty mugs and poured a coffee for both of them.  
  
"We should have a safe house for you and Nancy soon."  
  
"We can't stay with Warrick?" Katie responded blankly, acknowledging his words with a slight frown, and tentatively taking the proffered coffee from him.  
  
"Listen - Katie," Grissom began, "I'm going to be candid here. You staying with Warrick is not good. It can be seen -will be seen by some - as a major conflict of interest. You're an eyewitness in a huge case for us, and this situation - " he sighed. "We can't afford to jeopardize the case or have the ethics of any of our criminalists called into question here. It's a matter of propriety. We can't afford to have any insinuations about the friendship you and Nancy seem to have developed with Warrick. We have to be above reproach, and we can't have anyone questioning his objectivity."  
  
"But he's just - he's objective!" Katie protested weakly. "If he wasn't, he wouldn't even want to have anything to do with me - us - Nancy and I. Not after where we lived. Not after what I saw!"  
  
Grissom responded gently, "You and I both know Warrick is objective - but a defense attorney might see it differently, and he might convince a judge and jury otherwise as well. You cannot stay at Warrick's place indefinitely."  
  
Katie sighed sadly, shaking her head. "But he's my friend."  
  
"I understand that. I really do - but you're a witness and he's one of the lead criminalists investigating this case. Do you want a judge to throw out any evidence he collects in your brothers' murder because you're living with him? Even if he's just helping you out? It will happen," he sighed at Katie's stricken look. "Listen. I'm not telling you this to hurt you, but the wrong people could use this against you and against him. Think about what I said. I just want you to be prepared."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Greg was smiling to himself when Nick walked into the lab, carrying the computer he had confiscated from the school room. "Hey Greggo. What's up?"  
  
"Nothing. No news is bad news," Greg turned to Nick and eyed the computer. "That from the commune?"  
  
Nick grunted an affirmative. "Cath's coming with some 'educational pamphlets' - including about 50 that match the one on mixed-race relationships we found at the desert crime scene. We want to see if we can pull the original files from the CPU here, and match either this printer, or one of the others, to the type. She's got some other notes for you too."  
  
Greg grinned. "Good. I'm getting sick of prints. A change will do me good. So, where's Cath?"  
  
"She's coming in with Brass. We brought most of the women from the commune back for questioning so she's gonna help get them sorted. She thought my attitude might benefit a little from distance." Nick said this dryly and grimaced. "You should see some of the pamphlets, man. They'll make your skin crawl."  
  
"So, Cath thought you were going to go all Mt. Vesuvius on someone, and she sent you back?"  
  
"That's about it." Nick looked at Greg, eyes narrowed. "You seem pretty upbeat. Ecklie come in and slip on a banana peel while I was gone?"  
  
"Nope. I'm just - happy. Let's hook this sucker up and see what we can find, shall we?"  
  
"Sure thing. It's nice to have you back, Greggo."  
  
Greg smiled, knowing exactly what Nick meant. "It's nice to be back."  
  
* * * *  
  
If ever a woman needed to be bitch-slapped, Rebekah was it. The woman didn't seem to realize the trouble she was in. She was snotty, condescending, and Catherine was having a hard time keeping her irritation at bay. She rolled her eyes at Brass as Rebekah started expounding on her 'rights', and whispered just loud enough for him to hear, "I wish I hadn't sent Nicky back so early."  
  
Brass grinned tightly, pulled into the lot and turned to Rebekah. "Listen. We had a warrant; you are a suspect. And if you don't like it, write a letter to the editor."  
  
He and Catherine stepped out of Brass' squad car, Catherine squinting across the lot as O'Reilly and several of his men also parked. She wondered idly if any of them had had to deal with the same vitriol she and Brass had, before she turned back to Brass, lifting her field kit. "I gotta get the rest of this stuff into the lab. Can you handle her?"  
  
"If I need to," Brass smirked. He opened the back of the squad door and offered a solicitous hand to Rebekah, enjoying her scowl as she tried sliding out of the car without the use of her hands. "I hope your cuffs aren't too uncomfortable. Watch your head."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Grissom was standing in the hallway talking to Dr. Robbins when Catherine strode in, scowling darkly and making a beeline straight for him. "I need a cup of coffee!" she exclaimed. "Next time I have to go anywhere with Brass, I hope we don't need to bring a suspect back with us."  
  
"Who?" Grissom cocked an eyebrow at her, shooting an amused glance at Dr. Robbins. Catherine in high dudgeon was something to behold.  
  
"Rebekah Winters, that's who! She's already demanding a lawyer, and you wouldn't believe the stuff we found in the school room. She's the head teacher, Grissom," Catherine glared at him, "and she's brainwashing those kids."  
  
"Where is she?" Grissom kept his voice deliberately cool, hoping it would calm Catherine down. It didn't seem to have any effect. Catherine jerked her head over her shoulder, indicating the door she had just come through. "Brass has her - we brought all the women who take part in the home schooling - 5 of them - and left the children in the care of the older girls. We don't know where the other women that were at the commune last night are, but they're not there anymore. I think we're going to have to call Children's Services. Let me get this stuff to Greg. O'Reilly and his men are with Brass."  
  
Grissom nodded at her absently, watching the doorway as Brass and several stoic looking cops walked in surrounding a gaggle of women displaying various degrees of peevishness. In the forefront, leading the herd, was Rebekah Winters. Grissom frowned when he saw the expression on her face and turned to Catherine and Robbins. "This should be fun."  
  
* * * * *  
  
O'Reilly and Officer Bowdly quickly escorted four of the women into the larger interview room, under strict instructions from Brass not to let them converse amongst themselves. Smiling faintly at Rebekah, Grissom indicated for her to follow Brass past the lounge towards Interview Room One.  
  
"Will you free my hands, please?" her strident tone echoed down the hallway, bouncing off the cold tile flooring. Inside the lab, Catherine, emptying her field kit with Nick and Greg, winced.  
  
"Try listening to that for 30 minutes solid," she muttered.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Nancy awoke with a start, heart pounding. Outside in the hallway, she could hear Momma Rebekah's voice, cold and disapproving, and in the nature of small children she panicked. "Don't let her take me back. Don't let her take me back." Her mantra became louder and louder, and she finally broke, running from the office, crying for her sister.  
  
Katie, who had been dozing in the lounge, jerked abruptly and quickly stepped out into the hallway, looking for her sister. Rebekah, Grissom behind her and Brass in front, froze.  
  
"You little bitch," her voice was an angry hiss as she turned to Katie, face white with fury. Katie blinked in sudden surprise, shrinking back from Rebekah in shock. The sudden weight of Nancy wrapping thin arms around her waist made her totter, and her hands dropped instinctively to the girls' shoulders, squeezing protectively.  
  
"Rebekah." she tried to keep her voice calm. Grissom stepped forward quickly, aligning himself beside Katie and Nancy, eyes watchful as the two women confronted each other.  
  
"We should have let you go when we had the chance. You were never one of us." Rebekah's voice was sharp as a whip, her gaze cutting. "I told Enoch you were trouble. When we found out about Scotty - what he was - I told him your family was cursed."  
  
Drawn by the commotion in the hallway Warrick and Sara stepped out of the lab they were working in, striding quickly towards Grissom and Brass. Warrick's eyes narrowed imperceptibly at Rebekah, a frown tightening his mouth as he saw the focus of her wrath.  
  
"You leave Scotty out of this!" Katie's voice was shaky but fierce. "Our family was cursed the day we moved to the commune. My brother was a gentle man; a gentle soul. You have no right to judge him. You had no right-"  
  
"He was an aberration. A freak of nature; a monster. He was abhorrent in God's eyes."  
  
"Like that couple Enoch sent the men to kill? Abhorrent like them? Why?" Katie's voice was getting stronger, louder. Stepping forward, she went nose to nose with Rebekah. "Because he was black and she was white? They skinned his hands, Rebekah, because he dared to touch a white girl! They were killed because they loved each other - doesn't Jesus tell us to love each other? Don't the Ten Commandments tell us to love our neighbors? I tell you - you're the monster. Not Scotty; not them. You. And Enoch. And all the rest of them who think God wants us to hate each other."  
  
Nancy, still clutching Katie tightly, looked past Rebekah and saw Warrick. Loosening her hold on her sister, she quickly ran to him, burying her face in his neck as he scooped her up into his arms.  
  
Rebekah followed Nancy's progress, turning to glare at Warrick. "Enoch says half-breeds like you should be destroyed." Her eyes flicked to Nancy before she turned her sneer back to Katie.  
  
"I shouldn't have expected any more from you, making friends with a Sambo."  
  
Katie bristled. "He's closer to God than you'll ever be; a better person than you could ever understand."  
  
"It's your soul, Katie. Yours and Nancy's. I wash my hands of you both." Rebekah turned to look coldly at Grissom. "I would like to get out of the hallway, please. I find it - distasteful."  
  
"Distasteful." Grissom murmured. "That's a good word for it."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Katie watched Grissom and Brass escort Rebekah down the hallway and out of sight, before turning blindly to face Warrick, her limbs shaking violently. The hiccuping sound of Nancy's crying broke through her stupor, and she stepped forwards and placed a comforting hand on the young girls back.  
  
"I'm so sorry." her voice was soft, her eyes swimming with tears as she looked at Warrick.  
  
"Not your fault." Warrick's response was just as gentle. "You can't control what people say, or think. I've heard it before. Thanks for sticking up for me." The hand that had been stroking Nancy's back in comfort brushed over Katie's, squeezing it so gently she felt like crying.  
  
"You didn't deserve that," she whispered.  
  
"Neither did you." He looked at her silently for a few seconds, before turning to look at the rest of the team surrounding them. "Catherine, tell Grissom I'm taking them home. I'll be back soon."  
  
Catherine smiled in understanding, looking at her watch. "Take your pager. We'll buzz you if something comes up."  
  
"Yeah. Okay. You want to get out of here, Nancy?"  
  
The little girl nodded, and Warrick smiled as he shifted her slight weight to one side. Stepping towards Katie, he placed a comforting arm around her shoulders, drawing her against him as he turned her easily towards the exit. "Let's go home, then."  
  
______  
  
Author's Note: okay - next chapter - Dr. Jansen and Alli and Greg and Greg's apartment or else this chapter will end up way too long. Please R&R - as always, all input is welcome! 


	23. SEEING STARS

XXIII - SEEING STARS  
  
"We're not going to be able to hold Enoch." Brass' voice was grim.  
  
Grissom, sitting in the lounge room with Sara and Catherine going over several reports, looked up and frowned. "Why not?"  
  
"No direct evidence linking him to any of the crimes, and no one will implicate him. He denies ever inciting his people to commit violent acts, and unless we can prove he was the ringleader, he walks. We have to let him go."  
  
Grissom frowned. "Don't the pamphlets count? The information that Katie gave us? The fact that he is the head of the commune and the leader of this 'Hands of Righteousness' group?"  
  
Brass shook his head. "DA's not willing to risk an indictment against him at this time. We can arrest everyone we have direct evidence against. He's willing to indict Rebekah. What do you want me to do?"  
  
"We have to get someone to roll on him," Grissom looked at Sara and Catherine. "Thinking caps, ladies. What are we missing?"  
  
* * * * *  
  
"So, this is the printer?" Nick looked at Greg for confirmation, grinning when the younger man nodded.  
  
"And all the files are on the CPU. So, we got linkage." Greg smiled as he copied the offending files to diskette. "And I was thinking, now that we got some of the women here we should be testing DNA against the epithelials found on the letter at Lifestyles. Think we can get these women to voluntarily give us a DNA sample?"  
  
"Maybe if we tell them we need to rule them out of involvement in the murders," Nick replied thoughtfully. "I'll go talk to Grissom and Brass - see what we can do." He looked at his watch and sighed. "Only a couple more hours before shift ends. I hope you didn't mind my telling Alli about your empty apartment."  
  
"Nice way to change the convo, Nick," Greg shrugged as he said this, smiling when Nick looked a little flustered. "I always imagined that the first time a girl moved into my apartment, she'd be living with me, but -"  
  
Nick smiled. "Could still happen. I think she likes you."  
  
"Nah - not like you're implying. She told me earlier today I was basically in the throes of a pity-party, and to snap out of it. She's pretty abrupt - I get the impression she's not the type of person who suffers fools gladly."  
  
"You're not a fool," Nick's immediate defense made Greg feel good.  
  
"You know what I meant. Besides which, I have too many other issues to address right now without thinking about a relationship with anybody. I don't know if it's even possible." Greg tried to keep his voice upbeat, but Nick saw the sudden flash of bitterness rush across his face.  
  
"Hey, hey. Don't talk like that, Greggo. You're doing too well to let thoughts like that creep in. Did you read any of the pamphlets Dr. Jansen and Dr. Mellows gave you?"  
  
Greg shrugged. "Not really. I'm not ready to."  
  
"I read them." Nick's tone was serious, and he smiled fondly when Greg looked at him in surprise. "What? You don't think it affects me too? You're like a brother to me, Greg. I want to know what's going on so that I can help you."  
  
"Why does everyone around here keep doing that to me? Treating me like I'm part of their family?" Greg's voice was soft, but not sad. Nick watched him intently, looking for signs of the pain Greg had tried to hide, and for once didn't see it. He smiled again at the young man.  
  
"Because we are a family. What else would you call it? We care about each other, we respect each other, we love each other. It's actually even better than a family, because you can't chose your family members - but look at us. We chose each other. Capiche?"  
  
Greg was silent, mulling over Nick's words, before turning to face him again. "So, what did you learn from the pamphlets?"  
  
Nick grinned. "You mean, did I read the parts about what you can expect from your sex life in the future?" He laughed when Greg blushed and looked embarrassed, reaching out a hand and squeezing his young friends' knee. "I read it all, Greggo. When you see Jansen today, talk to him about it, but I don't think you have anything to be worried about. Sex won't kill you."  
  
"And even if it does, what a way to go!" Greg joked, even though he was still flustered. He never imagined he'd be talking sex with Nick of all people. And he never thought Nick would ever be comfortable discussing it with him, except in a joking way. He stopped laughing and smiled fully at Nick. "Thanks Nick."  
  
"No problemo, bro."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"I think she's finally calmed down," Warrick smiled tiredly at Katie as he walked into his living room. They had arrived back at his apartment just less than an hour ago, and Nancy had refused to let him go. Katie, feeling like an unwanted third wheel, had gone into the kitchen to make some coffee, before moving into the living room and sitting silently on the sofa Warrick had slept on just last night. Nancy had been devastated by their run in with Rebekah, and had tearfully pleaded with Warrick to stay with her.  
  
He had obliged the young girl, stretching out beside her as he tried to get her to fall asleep, his gentle voice painting stories in her imagination. Just before she had drifted off, she had smiled at him sleepily, "I think Scotty sent you to us."  
  
Warrick had been surprised by this statement. "Why do you say that?"  
  
"Because he knew we needed someone to look after us," her little girl logic was indisputable. "Will you look after us forever?" she yawned again, her voice drifting as her eyes fluttered shut, "you could marry Katie and we could be a family." Thankfully, she fell asleep before Warrick had to think of a response.  
  
Now, sitting in the living room beside Katie, sipping a lukewarm coffee, he tried not to dwell on what the little girl had said. Instead, he let his gaze slip to Katie. She had her thin hands wrapped defensively around the thick stoneware coffee mug, her face terribly sad, her eyes haunted.  
  
Warrick sighed as he acknowledged to himself how deeply she and her sister affected him. He had never gotten emotionally involved with any witnesses to any of his cases before, and the feeling was uncomfortable. He did not normally display what he called 'White Knight Syndrome', unlike Nick who wanted to save the world, but this case - this woman and her small sister were different. Sighing, he set his coffee down on the table.  
  
"It's not your fault, you know." His gentle statement made Katie jump, and she flashed a guilty look at him.  
  
"What isn't?"  
  
"None of this. I've already told you that. No one holds you responsible. You were just a victim of circumstances."  
  
"I knew better. I knew better than to stay there. When they first started spewing their - hate - I should have packed up Nancy, and Scotty and I should have left that same day. But I didn't. I fooled myself into believing they didn't mean it." The look she shot Warrick was so tormented, he automatically wrapped an arm around her shoulder, drawing her closer to his side. "My parents didn't raise me to be that way. But I was weak - Scotty's dead because I was weak. And you had to put up with Rebekah."  
  
"I would have heard it from Rebekah whether you were there or not. That's the way she thinks, and there's nothing I can do about it. So you can't blame yourself for that, Katie. As for the other, well - you were going through a lot. Your parents had just died, you were responsible for a younger sister. You just drifted, and you let yourself think you drifted into a safe harbor. You were strong enough to leave. That's what's important."  
  
Katie nestled her head unto Warrick's shoulder, seeking comfort where she could find it. The soft smell of her hair invaded Warrick's nostrils, and he closed his eyes against the sweet assault. His hand continued stroking her shoulder soothingly, and he felt her contented sigh all the way down to his toes.  
  
"I liked your Grams."  
  
"She liked you."  
  
"Why don't you have any pictures of your sister up in your apartment?"  
  
"It hurt too much," Warrick admitted softly. "But I think I'm ready now."  
  
Silence for a few moments. Warrick shifted sideways slightly, presenting more of his chest for Katie to lean against. She did so willingly, her back pressed against him, and he lifted his other hand to tangle loosely with hers on his knee.  
  
"Mr. Grissom says he'll have a safe house for us soon."  
  
"Really? First I've heard about it," Warrick responded softly, his fingers squeezing hers as the sudden lonely image of his apartment - sans the girls - hit him.  
  
"He says our staying with you is going to cause problems down the road. He says people will question our friendship; that you're in a conflict of interest having us here with you." Her voice was shaky as she said this. Warrick could feel the slight vibrations of it through his chest, and he frowned, but he didn't respond. "Is he right?"  
  
Warrick shrugged. "He should have talked to me if he felt that way, and left you out of it."  
  
"It's true, then. We're a liability. We have to leave. I don't want anyone saying hurtful things about you again, not if I can prevent it." She twisted suddenly, her thin shoulder blade stabbing him just beneath his clavicle as she tried to look at him. "I don't ever want to be responsible for causing you more pain."  
  
Warrick studied her serious face intently, the hand on her shoulder running to the side of her face and pushing the heavy curtain of hair hanging there behind her ear. Her eyes glowed like stars against her pale skin. "I've grown accustomed to your face," he whispered. "I'll miss you and Nancy both if you leave." He could see his eyes reflected back in Katie's own, and wondered if the longing he saw there was hers, or his. His eyes drifted down to her lips as she sighed, closing against the warm breath bathing his face.  
  
"What's going on?" she whispered softly, just before she kissed him. Her lips were smooth and soft against his own, and he swallowed the sigh that almost escaped him at their gentle touch.  
  
"I don't know," he whispered back. His other hand had threaded up through her hair, guiding Katie's face back to his as he shifted her into his lap, fully facing him, before capturing her lips for a second gentle kiss. Katie sighed into his mouth as she wrapped her arms around his neck, her soft breasts branding him through his shirt. "I've wanted to do that since we went to Dr. Robbins today."  
  
Warrick smiled against her mouth, trailing drugging lips up her cheek bone and around the firm bone of her jaw, teasing and tasting her skin as he did so. "I've wanted to do that all day too." He kissed her again, firmly this time, fully accessing her mouth before pulling away with a regretful sigh. "But this is too soon, too fast. I don't want you to regret anything, so."  
  
"So," Katie whispered in agreement. She turned slightly and rested her back against his chest again, pulling his arms around her waist and twining her fingers with his. She closed her eyes as she rested her head back against him, licking her lips subconsciously as she savored the taste of him. "I can never regret something that feels so right. But I see your point - I don't want you to regret anything. And Nancy's in your room." She could feel Warrick smile against the top of her head, and she sighed happily. "You're a good man, Warrick Brown."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Greg was surprised when Grissom showed up later that afternoon to take him to Dr. Jansen's office. In spite of having only five hours of sleep, Greg felt strangely energized, and seeing Grissom at the doorway just reinforced the odd happiness he was feeling. For once, he really felt as if he belonged somewhere. Despite his concerns over his health, the feeling was nice.  
  
Driving to Jansen's office, Grissom had discussed the case with Greg, bouncing ideas off him, listening thoughtfully to Greg's opinions, nodding in agreement to some of them. The release of Enoch earlier that morning had bothered everyone, and Grissom had vowed to himself they would find something that would bring him back to the holding cell - before sending him permanently to jail.  
  
When they arrived at Dr. Jansen's office, Grissom had followed Greg inside, grabbing a magazine as he made himself comfortable in the waiting room. When Greg had indicated he could take a bus to his apartment to meet with Alli, Grissom had smiled. "I don't mind waiting. Besides, I'm here for moral support."  
  
Greg had entered Dr. Jansen's office smiling. After the standard tests were run - blood pressure, pulse - and his defibrillator had been scanned for information; Greg had sat comfortably, answering Dr. Jansen's questions. Finally, the check-up was almost completed.  
  
"I saw Mr. Grissom waiting for you out front. How are things going at work?"  
  
"Fine. No one let's me push myself, and Griss is insisting on lots of naps, so I'm not getting over tired."  
  
Jansen nodded and jotted something in Greg's file. "Your stitches are looking pretty good - no infection, healing nicely. Your defibrillator indicates a couple of applied shocks, but nothing too major. How's your appetite? Strength?"  
  
Greg answered, smiling as Jansen again made notes in his file. "So, doc, what's the verdict?"  
  
"You're doing remarkably well, considering all that you've been through in the past couple of weeks. That's a testament to your general overall health before this happened, but I think your friends are playing a large role in your rehabilitation."  
  
Greg nodded, "I never knew how important I was to them until this happened. Shitty way to find out who your friends are, but still -"  
  
"Nice to know you have people you can count on, no matter what." Dr. Jansen nodded in understanding. "Have you suffered from depression at all?"  
  
"A little bit. It's hard to get used to - you know, come to grips with everything, but I think I'm doing okay. My friends don't let me stay depressed for long."  
  
"Good. So, Greg. I'll need to see you in another two weeks, and from there we can probably go monthly. You need to make physio appointments to work the muscles in your chest and help speed the healing process. I'll have my secretary set up an appointment for you. Any questions?"  
  
"Yeah. When can I go out and do field work again?" Greg tried not to sound too hopeful, but his eyes gave him away.  
  
"Maybe in another two weeks. I would want to discuss with you and Mr. Grissom what limitations you would have to be under for a little while, but I don't see why you can't go back soon."  
  
Greg nodded. "Nick read all the pamphlets you gave him for me. He told me to talk to you about - ah - physical activities. Can I - are they safe?"  
  
Dr. Jansen smiled. "When a young man of 28 asks me about physical activities in that tone of voice, I know he's not talking about jogging." Greg grinned sheepishly, but didn't argue.  
  
"Listen, Greg. There's nothing to prevent you from resuming normal activities in the near future. There's some limitations to certain sports - football is a definite no-no - but sex is fine. Just nothing too strenuous for the first little while - no gymnastics. Got that?"  
  
"Yes sir. Thank you, sir!"  
  
Jansen grinned. "If I had any worries about your recovery, you've just allayed them with that question, Greg. See you in a couple of weeks."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Want to come up and see my apartment, Grissom?" Greg was practically bouncing in his seat in excitement, and he realized how much he had missed his place. He hadn't been in it since the night Oscar Fennil had hurt him, and he hoped it wasn't a disaster.  
  
Grissom smiled in agreement. "Sure, I'll come up."  
  
Greg's apartment was on the top floor of a retro-fitted warehouse that had been converted into apartments in the early '80s. Grissom admired the hardwood floors as they entered the apartment, oddly surprised that Greg would live in such a nice place. He said as much to Greg, causing the young man to laugh.  
  
"I'm not a total eccentric, Grissom. I appreciate nice things." Greg just finished with the quick tour, putting on a pot of coffee when he heard a knock on the door.  
  
"That will be Alli," he said, as he looked at his watch. "Should have known she'd be late. Artist types always are." He grinned at her as he opened the door. "Hi - you're late."  
  
Alli sighed in frustration as she stepped into the apartment. "I got screwed up on the one way street out front, and had to circle around again. Hi, Mr. Grissom."  
  
"Alli." Grissom looked at his watch, turning to Greg. "I'll leave you to show Alli around. When do you want me to swing by to pick you up for work?"  
  
Before Greg could respond, Alli stepped in. "I can drive him in, Mr. Grissom. If that's all right with you, Greg. Maybe after you show me your apartment, we can talk about a rental contract over dinner?"  
  
Grissom tried, unsuccessfully, to hide his quick smile from Greg. Both he and Alli looked at the young man expectantly, the latter slightly concerned at his prolonged silence, Grissom amused by the sudden appearance of 'cat got my tongue' syndrome.  
  
Finally, Greg managed to choke out a fairly nonchalant, "Cool," and excused himself to walk Grissom to the elevator.  
  
"Have a nice dinner, Greg," Grissom teased, as the doors slid open and he stepped inside. "If you're a little late getting to the office, I'll understand."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"This is great coffee, Greg!" Alli smiled in appreciation as she took another long sip, her smile widening as she saw the covetous look Greg shot her mug. "It's too bad you're not allowed to drink caffeine yet."  
  
"Sure, rub it in," Greg groused good-naturedly. "Keep it up, and I might have to raise the rent on you."  
  
"Who says I'm taking the apartment?" Alli teased back. "I haven't even seen it yet."  
  
"Well, then. Let me give you the grand tour. This is the kitchen. You cook here," he smiled when Alli snorted, leading his way through the kitchen door and back into the living room. "Living room - you saw this already. The bedrooms are this way."  
  
Alli followed Greg down the hallway, trying not to look at his butt as he continued talking. She found him very attractive, which was odd - normally, she liked compact blondes not much taller than 5'6" - she hated being dwarfed. Greg, however, was a whole different kettle of fish entirely. Taller than the men she usually went for, she had noticed his charming good looks right away. What had clinched the deal for her, however, was the charming humor he had managed to flash at her, despite his personal pain. The easy intelligence in his brown eyes, the teasing grin, the boyish face - she found everything about him appealing.  
  
The conversation they had shared the day prior, at her Uncle Al's house, had been a bit of a revelation for her. She had felt an immediate concern for him when he had stalked into the house, and she had felt like crying when he showed her the scar marking his chest. She still couldn't believed she had challenged him about feeling sorry for himself, but she had been so angry seeing him defeated she had raised her voice at him. To be quite honest, she was amazed he was still talking to her after what she had said. Normally, Alli thought things through before she said them, but around Greg she found herself wanting to blurt out every thought as it came to her. It was disconcerting.  
  
"This is the bathroom, here," Greg had stopped walking and Alli plowed right into him, not paying attention. Her arms quickly reached out and snaked around him to keep from falling over, and she smiled into his back as she took an appreciative sniff of his shirt.  
  
"Ooof. Sorry. Wasn't paying attention." She enjoyed the feel of her arms around Greg's waist, and was briefly tempted to dip her fingers into the waistband of his jeans. Before she could act on that impulse, Greg's hands drifted down her arms, rubbing gently from elbow to wrist, before lightly grasping her fingers and extricating himself from her grip. When he turned to glance at her sideways, she noticed that his face was bright red, and she tried not to giggle.  
  
"Uh. Yeah. That's alright - accidents happen. Anyway, this is the bathroom. The tub is really nice - big enough to stretch out in -"  
  
"Or for two -" she inserted teasingly, laughing when he flushed even darker. "C'mon Greg! Don't tell me you've never thought that bath was big enough for two people!"  
  
Alli could tell by Greg's little smirk that he was enjoying her teasing. "I refuse to answer that question on the grounds it may incriminate me," he responded. "This doorway here leads to the main bedroom."  
  
As she stepped into Greg's bedroom, she blinked in surprise. The bed, a large black wrought-iron antiquity, was standing almost dead center in the middle of the room. A large black armoire stood in the corner. There was no other furniture in the room, and the walls and ceiling were painted black. Stupidly, she stated, "It's black."  
  
Greg grinned. "I know it's black. Here. Watch." He smiled as he pulled her into the middle of the room until she was standing at the foot of the bed, before flicking off the lights. Overhead and covering the walls, small fluorescent stars glowed. It was like standing in the middle of the universe. Above her head, Greg had hung the little stars on clear fishing line at levels varying from 3 - 5 inches, as well as placing several flat against the ceiling. She could feel him beside her in the dark raise an arm and make a sweeping motion with it, causing the stars on the sting to sway in the gentle breeze.  
  
"This is beautiful! You must have over 1000 stars in here."  
  
Greg smiled at the astonishment in her voice. "Actually, there's over 5000 - took me about 2 weeks to apply them all. Here, lie down on the bed and look at the ceiling." He smiled when she plopped down and he slid in beside her, his hands rested casually under his head.  
  
"Oh wow! I see Orion, and the Big Dipper - you've made the ceiling into the night sky! This is really amazing, Greg." The two lay there in companionable silence, admiring the universe in his room, until the stars began to fade. Sighing, Greg sat up and made his way unerringly to the light switch, flicking it on and blinking against the sudden harsh light. "I really miss my room," he sighed.  
  
Alli sat up and smiled at him gently. "I would miss this too! It's awesome. I could just lay here for hours and watch the stars on your ceiling. When do you get to move back?"  
  
Greg shrugged. "Not sure. Dr. Jansen doesn't want me on my own for a while yet."  
  
Alli grinned. "Well, your loss is my gain. I'd take this apartment on the basis of this room alone. The pick-up lines with a room like this are endless!"  
  
"Pick-up lines?"  
  
"Yeah," her gaze was teasing, and she slid to her feet, approaching him seductively. "Hey, sexy. Come back to my room with me - I'll make you see stars!"  
  
Greg stared at her in shock, before bursting into laughter. "Oh my God! My rooms been like this for almost a year now, and I never thought of using that!"  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Okay - I officially want to rent your apartment." Alli stated with a sigh as she sank into the overstuffed sofa in the living room. "This place is perfect! How did you manage to rent it?"  
  
"Actually, I own it. Estate sale. I bought it about three years ago. Totally lucked out. I was a courier for a lawyer while working my way through university, and he helped me out when it came on the market - gave me a heads up and a loan so I could finance it. Paid him back last year, and now I only owe the bank." Greg sat down beside Alli, stretching his arms across the top of the sofa.  
  
"So - I'll make your mortgage payments for you then. Is that fair? How much?"  
  
"$1100 a month." Greg smiled when Alli looked crestfallen. "Don't worry. I won't ask you for the mortgage in full. How about you pay $600 and we'll call it even? Right now, I'm not getting anything at all, so I'd be perfectly happy with that."  
  
Alli looked at him dubiously. "I'd feel like I'm taking advantage."  
  
"Why? You'd be doing me a favor - I'm uncomfortable leaving it empty for so long. I'd feel better if someone was here. I'll tell you what - give me one of your paintings, and in 40 years when it's worth millions, I'll consider us even."  
  
Greg turned to look at Alli, who was gazing at him pensively. "You have that much faith in my work?"  
  
"Why wouldn't I? It's beautiful. I told you that already. So, do we have a deal?"  
  
Alli smiled. "Deal," she whispered, just before she leaned forward and kissed him.  
  
__________  
  
Author's notes: Okay - next chapter - more angst coming up. Hope you all enjoyed this one. 


	24. BUILDING FOUNDATIONS

XXIV- BUILDING FOUNDATIONS  
  
The soft brush of Alli's mouth against his own was startling, to say the least. Before Greg could respond, she pulled away and smiled at him shyly.  
  
"What was that?" The words popped out of Greg's mouth without volition, and he blushed when Alli laughed.  
  
"It was supposed to be a kiss, but I must be losing my touch if you had to ask."  
  
"Why did you kiss me?"  
  
Alli shrugged, "Why not? You're a nice guy, Greg. You're giving me a fantastic deal on a great apartment, thus saving Goliath from too many more nights in the garage, and - I just felt like it."  
  
"Oh." Greg looked a little baffled, but he smiled at Alli. "I'm not complaining. I was just - surprised, that's all." His expression turned teasing, "Do you normally just jump any guy you feel like kissing?"  
  
"Shut up!" Alli grabbed a throw pillow, and whacked Greg lightly.  
  
Greg grinned, easily fending off the pillow with one arm, "'Cuz I have to tell you, this is Las Vegas - behavior like that can get you into trouble!"  
  
"I didn't jump you!" Alli was laughing now, but a slight flush had crept up her cheeks.  
  
"You're blushing!" Greg crowed, "that means you wanted to jump me!" He grabbed the throw pillow from her hand, tossing it over his shoulder and stilling her hands with his own. Alli stopped laughing when she caught the suddenly serious expression on Greg's face. They stared at each other silently for a moment, Greg's eyes plumbing her own, so serious and so - questioning - they almost made her heart stop. "You wanted to, right?" he whispered again.  
  
Alli sighed, and leaned forward slightly, "You have eyes just like Bambi."  
  
Greg grinned, "That's not an answer."  
  
"Do you really need an answer?"  
  
"Do you really need an apartment?"  
  
Alli laughed, "Blackmail! I just - I wanted to kiss you. Are you happy?"  
  
"I'll be happier if I know you want to do it again." Greg's smile was flirtatious, and his eyes glowed happily. "I really like you, Alli."  
  
"I like you too, Greg. So - when can I move in?"  
  
"Whenever you want. Shall we go grab something to eat - I have to be to work in 30 minutes. I think we'll have to do drive-thru."  
  
"As long as it's not McDonald's, I don't care!" Alli agreed, smiling as Greg quickly stood and helped her to her feet. His fingers squeezed her hand firmly before twining with her own.  
  
"I'm glad you came to Vegas."  
  
Alli stood on her tiptoes and leaned in to kiss the side of his face, "I'm glad too."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Grissom, I need to talk to you," Warrick's mellow voice sounded unusually harsh. Grissom looked up, startled when he saw the younger man standing in his office doorway, arms crossed.  
  
"Sure Warrick. What can I do for you?" Grissom indicated the empty seat across from his desk, and frowned slightly when Warrick stepped into his office and shout the door before sitting down. "Something wrong?"  
  
"Since when do you have permission to intrude into my personal life?"  
  
"What are you talking about?" Grissom was honestly surprised, but Warrick didn't relent.  
  
"I'm talking about Katie. Don't you think she has enough on her plate dealing with her brother's death and witnessing a double-murder, without having to worry about causing me problems too?"  
  
"She told you we spoke."  
  
"Yeah, she told me you spoke. Don't you think you should have come to me with your concerns, Grissom?"  
  
"I was planning to, today. We have a safe house for them, Warrick. They can go there tomorrow."  
  
Warrick sat back in his chair, shoulders slumping in defeat, "So, that's it then."  
  
Grissom watched his friend with concern. "She's really gotten to you, hasn't she Warrick? Both of them. You know it's the best thing for the case."  
  
Warrick sighed, "I know. Nancy told me last night she thought Scotty sent me to look after them. I don't want them to have to leave. They've been through too much already, and I don't think Nancy will be able to adjust. She's just a kid, Grissom - she needs stability."  
  
"How would it look to a defense attorney, Warrick? Even a half-assed one would be able to cast doubt on any evidence you collected at Lifestyles; regarding her brother's murder, if she stays with you. And what about justice for those two kids in the desert?"  
  
"What if you pulled me off the case?" Warrick's voice was calm. "If I'm not on the case, they can't question the evidence, right?"  
  
"What about the evidence you've already gathered? Besides which, we need you on this case. It's too big to pull you."  
  
"What if we got an admission of guilt?"  
  
"Warrick," Grissom's voice was firm, "why are you doing this?"  
  
Warrick shrugged and remained silent, intently studying his hands before looking up at Grissom, his eyes pained. "I don't want them to leave."  
  
"Is there more going on there than I'm aware of, Warrick?" Grissom sighed, and ran an agitated hand through his smoky curls. "Catherine told me she was 'feeling the vibes'," he grimaced when he said this, the words sounding foreign coming from him. "Was she right? I know you're emotionally involved - but is it more 'emotional' than it should be?"  
  
Warrick shrugged, "Am I talking to my boss, or my friend?"  
  
"Both."  
  
"Okay. Listen - I don't know. There's something there, and I can't deny it. I feel like Nancy is my responsibility. I feel like it's my job to look after her and keep her safe - Nancy and Katie. I know what they're going through."  
  
"How could you possibly know what they're going through?"  
  
"Grissom, I think it's time I told you about Delia."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Sara and Nick were sitting in the lounge with Catherine, bouncing ideas and theories off each other, when Greg walked in with Alli carrying Wendy's bags.  
  
"Greg, Alli," Nick smiled, "so - how did it go?"  
  
Alli grinned, "Thank you so much for suggesting Greg rent to me! His apartment is amazing - you should see his bedroom!" She stopped suddenly, face flaring red as she realized what she had just said. Beside her, Greg was grinning, but his face was just as red.  
  
"I mean - you should see what he's done with it - he's got glow in the dark stars all over the place and -"  
  
"We know, we know. Saw it when we packed his clothes for him." Sara was smiling wickedly at Greg, enjoying the happy expression in his eyes. "So, based on your exuberance, I assume you're going to rent."  
  
"I'd be a fool not to! I'll never find a better deal."  
  
Greg indicated she should sit at the table, and quickly sat beside her himself, pulling his fries and grilled chicken from his bag. "We didn't have time to eat before she drove me to work, so I hope you guys don't mind if we chow down here."  
  
"Keep your eyes on your fries, dude!" Nick grinned, snaking a hand out and grabbing a hot one.  
  
Alli smiled when she heard the familiar footfall of Dr. Robbins coming down the hall. "There's Uncle Al - I suppose I should tell him. Excuse me for a minute." She popped up from her seat and headed out the doorway, calling after him. When she was gone, Sara, Nick and Catherine turned to Greg, expressions ranging from amused to avidly curious.  
  
"She's cute!" Catherine opined. "And did she ever blush when she was talking about your bedroom." Her eyes flashed teasingly at Greg. "I'd say she definitely saw stars."  
  
Sara giggled. "Literally. You look happy, Greggo. Are you happy?"  
  
Greg shrugged, "Happy to rent my apartment? Yeah, I am. It's a load off, financially."  
  
"Don't bug him, girls. He and Alli barely know each other - yet!" Nick winked at Greg, and Greg blushed. "Did you talk to Dr. Jansen?"  
  
Greg blushed harder, and Nick laughed. "I see that you did. Cool man. How are things going?"  
  
"Not bad. He seemed pretty happy - said I could maybe start field work in a few more weeks. I need to start going to physio, too."  
  
"And everything else - all systems go, right?"  
  
Greg looked at Nick, trying to glare at him without looking like he was glaring. Nick grinned cheekily, and Sara and Catherine started laughing.  
  
"There's a whole subtext to this conversation I'm just not getting," Catherine said, "and I don't think I want to."  
  
"Thank God for that!" Greg muttered under his breath.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Warrick and Grissom walked into the lounge together, both men strangely subdued. Alli had returned earlier, and she and Greg were just finishing their take-out dinner. Grissom smiled at her when she jumped to her feet, "Hi Mr. Grissom. I was just leaving!"  
  
"Relax, Alli. At least finish your French fries. Al know you're here?"  
  
"Yeah - I was talking to him earlier - needed to tell him about Greg's apartment," Alli grinned. "I think he's still in shock!"  
  
Greg looked up at this, "In shock? Why?"  
  
Alli grinned, "He's my uncle. He thinks he needs to protect me. When I told him I was moving into your place, he started getting all bristly, until I reminded him you're at Sara's and Nick's. He thought you were putting the moves on me."  
  
"Little does he know!" Greg responded, before a mortified look crossed his face when everyone started laughing. "Shit. Did I just say that out loud? Note to self: turn sound on internal monolog OFF!"  
  
Nick was grinning, "When are you moving in Alli?"  
  
"As soon as you and Greg offer to help me move," she responded impishly. "I don't have much, so an hour or two of your time is all that's required. Greg's apartment is fully furnished, so I just need help carting my crap up."  
  
"We can help tomorrow afternoon, before work, right guys?" Sara responded. "If that's all right."  
  
They quickly made plans, and Alli walked to the door, feet light and a happy smile on her face. "I'm going to go say goodbye to Uncle Al. See you later. Bye, Greg."  
  
"Later, Alli," Greg watched her leave, smiling softly when she looked through the lounge window and gave him a three-fingered wave. He waved back, before turning to see the amused expressions on his friends' faces.  
  
"She's cute," Sara offered.  
  
"She likes you." Catherine added.  
  
Grissom cocked a brow at him, "She's Dr. Robbins favorite niece, so don't do anything rash - but I agree with Catherine."  
  
Greg tried not to look too pleased at this remark, instead gathering together the garbage from their meal. "So, what's on the list tonight?"  
  
* * * * *  
  
Brass caught Grissom in the hallway 30 minutes later, deep in thought as he perused a stapled file in his hand.  
  
"Grissom - yo! Stop a second." Brass blustered over to him, smiling when Grissom raised an eyebrow at him. "I got those warrants you wanted. We can head over anytime - barn, outlying areas, everything - including permission to dig."  
  
Grissom smiled absently, "Good. Good. What about for the DNA from the women?"  
  
"We can get it from them, but not any of the children. Judge wouldn't go for that. What're you reading?"  
  
"It's the missing person's report filed over two years ago on Eric Shelton, the guy who told Scotty and Katie about the commune. I've got the case file - looks like we sent a guy out to talk to Enoch and some of the men, since that was his last known address. Officer Langdon? Yeah - Langdon. His notes are interesting. I've asked O'Reilly to find him and ask him to come talk to me. He should be here any minute. Let's see if he has anything to add before we head out to the commune."  
  
Brass nodded in agreement, "Fine by me, Griss. Where is everyone else?"  
  
"Warrick and Nick are hoping to get the rest of the window together from Magikal - says they're almost done. Cath, Sara and Greg are in the lab. Greg's running the DNA we got from the ladies we brought in yesterday, including the lovely lady Rebekah, and Sara and Catherine are sorting through the rest of the physical evidence and still running print comparisons."  
  
"You got a match from the school room computer on the brochures right?"  
  
Grissom nodded. "Found all the files. If only we could find out who wrote them. I know Enoch is behind this all - there has to be some way we can link him in."  
  
Brass shook his head. "That man is sly. He's planted the seeds, for sure. But not one of the people we've got already have even indicated they were acting on instructions from him. He's like Manson."  
  
Grissom smiled grimly. "But Manson's in jail."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"I'd only been on the job for three months, sir. I'd say it was a pretty typical interview. They seemed helpful enough." Officer Langdon shifted nervously in his seat, trying to remain calm. In reality, sitting across from Captain Brass and 'Gruesome' Grissom was pretty damned intimidating, even though Mr. Grissom had complimented him on his notes.  
  
"You wrote here that Enoch Winters said Eric just decided to leave one day?" Grissom tapped the report thoughtfully, watching Langdon intensely, his gaze sharp.  
  
"That's what he said. Gave no reason for it, either. Said no one knew why he decided to go, but they couldn't change his mind."  
  
"Did you find his answers evasive? Any of the other people you spoke with - were they evasive?"  
  
"No. They all said the same thing. He left. Said he was going to California."  
  
"What did you think of them? Of the commune?" Brass questioned.  
  
"They seemed a little hippy-dippy to me, sir. They had just finished building the barn, you know, and one of the men - I'm sorry, sir, I forget his name, but he was built like a moose and had military short hair - was pretty proud of that fact. He said Enoch was teaching them to be self- sufficient. The barn was going to be for their livestock, complete with slaughter house and a small tanning room."  
  
Grissom looked interested at this. "Slaughter house? Tanning room?"  
  
"Yes, sir. Can I see my report?" Grissom handed it to him, watching as the young man quickly flipped through the pages, searching the names. "This guy - called himself Brother Michael. Anyway, he gave me a tour. Said he was a butcher by trade, and Enoch had made sure he would have everything on hand for him - cows, chickens, pigs. The tannery was for Enoch himself - he was going to teach the men how to skin the animals and treat the hide - planned on curing their own leather, making their own clothes. You know - hippy stuff."  
  
Grissom smiled at this. "Enoch was going to teach them? You're sure he said Enoch?"  
  
"It's not in my notes, sir. Not being pertinent to the missing man and all, but yeah - he said Enoch." Langdon picked up on Grissom's barely suppressed excitement and smiled, "Am I helping at all?"  
  
"Yes, Officer Langdon, you are. You said the barn had just been finished? Any other signs of fresh construction?"  
  
"The icehouse had just been finished - couldn't go in, because they were just preparing the ice and the doors were sealed. The foundation for the smokehouse was ready to be poured that week. And a couple of those geo- homes they have out there now were just being finished."  
  
Brass looked at Grissom and smiled sourly. "Fresh foundation for the smokehouse. Interesting. You mind coming with us when we go there this evening. I think we could use you."  
  
Langdon grinned. "My pleasure, sir. As long as my chief doesn't mind, that is."  
  
"Don't worry. I'll clear it with him." Brass turned to Grissom, "We might be able to nail the bastard after all."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"DNA match with one of the hairs," Greg sounded pleased with himself. "Rebekah Winters helped make the note from Lifestyles."  
  
Sara looked up at Greg and smiled, "That'll make Grissom happy. I've managed to confirm a few more of the prints - all the men Katie places at the desert murders can be accounted for through fingerprint matches, and I can tie a couple of them to Lifestyles. The second palm print on the paint brush matches 'Brother Michael', and the other brush matches 'Brother Aaron'. Still working on the prints we pulled from the empty liquor bottles, but I gotta say, I'm feeling pretty confident."  
  
"We got the boot print too, once we can confirm who the boots belong to," Catherine interrupted, "and I've got a couple of visuals from the molds you and Nick took in the desert - two pairs of running shoes, and another set of cowboy boots. And guys - check this out -" Catherine turned over the first pair of running shoes she had placed off to the side, indicating the caked dirt in the treads. "This dirt looks like it's been soaked in blood. What do you think, Greg?"  
  
Greg grinned, "I think I've got more DNA to run."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"I think this is as good as it gets, War," Nick sighed, his hands at the back of his waist as he stretched out his spine.  
  
"I agree," Warrick studied the window in front of him intently. "This is a bullet hole here, and here," he pointed them out to Nick, before stepping closer. "This - top side up - this is the inside of the glass, right?"  
  
Nick nodded, moving to Warrick's side, studying the glass with him. "This looks like blood here," he indicated some dried red flecks around the first hole Warrick had pointed to. "It looks like the bullet went out the window - maybe it went through one of our victims first?"  
  
Warrick nodded thoughtfully, "but this one - the bullet came through the window. I think this was the first bullet here - didn't shatter the glass, but weakened it. See the striations here? And the pieces are larger, not like they shattered inward. Where you are, the pieces are smaller - you can tell they blew outwards. The window survived the initial shot in, but was too weakened to survive the second bullet out."  
  
"I agree, man. Which means we're lucky no one was walking around outside when the second bullet went through, or we could have had another victim. It looks like the bullet went through at a slight upwards trajectory - shall we go and see if we can find the bullet?" Nick grinned at Warrick.  
  
"Yeah, man. Let's go tell Grissom we're finished here, see what he says."  
  
_________  
  
Author's Note: Sorry for the slight delay in getting this chapter up - I've been playing with it for a few days now, and am finally happy with the way it progresses. Next chapter should be up sooner - maybe even tomorrow - so keep looking! A big thanks to Jan and Indus, for their suggestions and corrections! 


	25. CLOSING IN

XXV - CLOSING IN  
  
"Doesn't this constitute harassment?" Enoch was staring grimly at Grissom and Brass, beefy arms crossed, a huge scowl on his face. He was glaring at the warrants in Brass' hand almost as if he expected them to disappear in a puff of smoke. Behind Brass, O'Reilly pointedly shifted his bulk, and he shot a look at the other officers arrayed behind him.  
  
"The judge who signed these warrants didn't seem to think so," Brass responded, expression neutral, "but you can always take it up with your lawyer when we finally arrest your ass."  
  
Enoch grinned at this. "Arrest me? For what - I am merely a messenger. I don't control the people who live here."  
  
"You tell them who to hate," Grissom's tone was sour. "You target the groups they go after with your pamphlets and your preachings."  
  
"I target no one. I only show them what's clearly stated in the Bible. You ever hear about Sodom and Gomorrah?"  
  
"You ever hear that Jesus said to 'Love one another'?" Grissom responded.  
  
Enoch shrugged, "I cannot love what God clearly states is wrong. My people may have acted inappropriately in the eyes of the law; God's law is different. The people who died were sinners."  
  
"We're all sinners - such is the nature of man. I know you're not without sin, Mr. Winters, so I'm surprised you can justify throwing stones. Besides which, doesn't God state 'Vengeance is mine?'"  
  
Enoch smiled condescendingly at Grissom. "Who's to say what form God's vengeance will take?"  
  
Grissom merely cocked an eyebrow at him, "Listen, Mr. Winters - I'm not going to get into a big theological debate with you. I'm a criminalist, not a preacher. But I do know this - if God would send his son here in order to cleanse humanity of our sins, I sincerely doubt he would turn around 2000 years later and appoint a man like you to act as his arbiter of justice. I would suggest you go back and read the New Testament - especially Jesus' teachings - the ones about love, and forgiveness. And then read the Ten Commandments again - and tell me where, in all that, you can justify murder."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"This is where the window was," Nick stated the obvious, smiling when Warrick snorted at him and rolled his eyes. "What - just talking it out, man. So, window here. First shot came from the outside, 14 ½ inches up, 16 ½ inches in from the right side. Second shot goes out 22 ¾ inches up from the bottom, at a 40 degree angle and 2 ½ feet in from the left side -" as he talked, he quickly measured the distances, marking the spots in black market against the plastic covering the hole where the glass once stood, "right here."  
  
He smiled at the satisfying whir the measuring tape made as he released it, tucking into his pocket after it had closed. Warrick was eyeballing the area indicated, flashlight refracting eerily against the plastic. "I know this isn't a busy area - no casinos or shopping, just this place and a coffee shop down the street, and I know the crime took place later in the evening, but no one heard anything? No one saw anything? I find that hard to believe."  
  
The men did a quick scan of the interior of the room, grimacing in distaste at the bloodstains still covering the floor, the words painted on the wall. "The initial bullet coming in would have ended up over here - and yes, this looks like a bullet hole in the wall."  
  
Warrick nodded, "Bullet is gone. Must have been retrieved already by Sara and Grissom - we'll check the crime scene photos when we get back to the lab. Care to step outside?"  
  
Nick nodded grimly. Together, they quickly found the marker indications on the plastic, turning to look into the street, flashlights shining at a slight upward angle, across two lanes of a one-way road, into the brick of an old brownstone that had recently been converted into a clothing boutique. "Assuming there was nothing here to obstruct the bullet; it would have ended up in the wall there."  
  
He held his flashlight steady as Warrick crossed the road, inspecting the area illuminated by Nick's light. After a few moments of study, he flashed Nick a thumbs up sign, "Found it man. Right in the wall. It's gonna be pretty trashed, but ballistics can do amazing things. Just linking it to the type of guns we know were used is one more pro for the case."  
  
Nick joined Warrick, grinning, "The more t's we cross man, the happier I am."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Grissom had sent Sara and Catherine to get the DNA samples from the rest of the ladies at the commune, and he and Brass were in the back on the barn, in the slaughter house with Officer Langdon. Brass had O'Reilly establish his officers around the perimeter of the barn to keep curious or angry residents from intruding, and O'Reilly was now standing just off to the side, Enoch stewing beside him.  
  
Grissom was carefully boxing several blades when his cell phone rang. The shrillness of it in the relative silence of the room made them all jump.  
  
"Grissom."  
  
He smiled slightly when he heard Greg's voice on the other end, "You have something for me Greg?" He listened intently, nodding as he turned and smiled at Brass. Greg had found something, alright.  
  
"You're sure? DNA confirms all this - everything matches. Great - good job, Greg. Good job."  
  
"You sounded pleased," Brass remarked as Grissom hung up, "what did you get?"  
  
"Greg was running some tests on blood found soaked in the dirt that was caked in shoes we can link to the desert crime scene. He found three different blood types - the blood of our victims, and pig blood. The pig blood is a perfect match for the pig blood used at Lifestyles - Greg ran the DNA - sow blood. And the shoes belong to the commune's resident butcher, Brother Michael."  
  
Brass smiled at this announcement, and turned to face Enoch. "I saw some piglets in the barn when we walked through it earlier, but no mother. We'll make sure to take blood samples before we leave - just in case the blood from our slaughtered pig can be linked through her progeny."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Catherine and Sara had set up a small lab of sorts in the kitchen, and two of the officers that had arrived with O'Reilly had gone to the trouble of gathering the women and the few remaining men just outside. One at a time, Officer Green - fresh to the force - would lead someone into the kitchen. Sara would take their information, ignoring the scowls and sarcastic remarks, and Catherine would swab them. In short order, they were finished.  
  
"That went remarkably smoothly," Catherine remarked to Sara as she loaded the last of her swabs into her field kit. "I don't know why I was expecting otherwise, but this place gives me the creeps."  
  
Sara grinned at the older woman, "I know what you mean. So - what now? Did Grissom want us to take these back to the lab, or shall we join him and Brass?"  
  
Catherine grimaced, "They're in the slaughter house - you really want to join them?"  
  
"Right. Let's call Grissom, and see what he wants us to do."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"I heard Brass was going to be taking Katie and Nancy to a safe house," Nick cast a sideways glance at Warrick as they climbed into the Tahoe. Warrick didn't respond. "C'mon, man. Comment."  
  
"What do you want me to say? They'll be leaving tomorrow."  
  
"Do they know yet?" Nick sounded concerned, and Warrick smiled slightly.  
  
"You care about everyone, don't you man. Katie knows a safe house is in her future - she just doesn't know when. I want to tell her personally."  
  
"Understandable. So - how do you think Nancy's going to react?"  
  
"I don't know. Not good," Warrick frowned as he drove, thinking of the young girl. "She's already told me she wants to stay with me forever."  
  
"Would that be so bad?" Nick grinned. "She's a cute kid with a cute sister - both of whom obviously like you. You like them - so what's the big deal?"  
  
Warrick shrugged. "Not my idea to send them away - Grissom's. He thinks my integrity will be compromised on the case if they're staying with me, and he wants to prevent problems come court time. He's right, of course. Any lawyer with half a brain could twist Katie and Nancy staying with me, and use it to taint the evidence we've collected."  
  
"Never looked at it that way," Nick sighed. "That would be a problem."  
  
The two men drove in silence for a few moments, before Nick pulled out his cell phone. "I'll call Gris and let him know what we found. I don't think there's a big rush to get this to ballistics - Grissom may want us to join them at the commune."  
  
Warrick frowned, "Just what I want to do. That place is like Disney World to me." His tone was very dry, and Nick grinned at him in commiseration.  
  
"Maybe Gris will just tell us to go back to the lab."  
  
Warrick rolled his eyes at Nick, "and if you believe that, I got some nice swamp land in Florida to sell you."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Doctor Robbins watched Greg thoughtfully as he pushed himself around the lab on his wheeled stool. The young man seemed almost back to his old self - he even had some god awful music playing in the lab, and two times in the last four minutes he had actually played air drums. Robbins wondered how much of this was natural youthful exuberance and Greg bouncing back from his near miss; half wondered how much of it was because of Alli. One thing for certain, he couldn't stand in the hallway watching Greg forever.  
  
"Greg!"  
  
Greg spun towards Robbins upon hearing his name, a slightly trepidatious smile on his face.  
  
"Dr. Robbins! What can I do for you?" He turned down the small CD player until the music was just an underlying hum, and pushed his legs lightly against a filing cabinet, shooting himself across the room. Robbins couldn't help comparing this visit to Greg's lab to his last one, when the young man had been so startled his defibrillator had kicked in.  
  
"You're looking better."  
  
Greg nodded, "Feeling better. I'm starting to believe what everyone else keeps telling me - I will survive."  
  
Robbins nodded, "No one ever said it would be easy, but you seem happier. Alli told me she's renting your apartment?"  
  
"Uh - yeah. I hope you don't mind," Greg was suddenly flustered, "She told me you weren't too happy about it."  
  
Robbins sighed, "Nothing against you, Greg, but she just got here. I was hoping we'd have her with us for a while longer yet. But I understand why she wants a place of her own - we really don't have enough room and she needs her space."  
  
"She wants to get Goliath out of the garage."  
  
"That too," Robbins smiled at the young man. "She told me what you're charging her. You could get more than that from someone else if you looked around."  
  
Greg waved his hand, "I don't want to look around. Besides which, she's giving me one of her paintings, so I think it's a fair trade."  
  
"What happens when you get the go ahead to move back to your place? What does she do then?"  
  
"I'll cross that bridge when I come to it."  
  
Robbins sighed, "Fair enough. I think you're a good guy, Greg. But I would be remiss in my duties as an uncle if I didn't warn you not to trifle with her. You're the first person she met here, so she might be feeling comfortable with you - don't take advantage."  
  
Greg could feel his face heat, but he smiled at Robbins with genuine understanding, "I respect you too much to try to uh - screw around with you niece."  
  
"She likes you, you know. I know the signs."  
  
"I like her."  
  
"Okay." Robbins sighed, "Try not to hurt her - my wife and sister-in-law would kill me."  
  
"And who's going to warn her not to hurt me?" Greg whispered, half to himself, not really expecting an answer.  
  
"I've already told her Greg," Robbins smiled at the young man's shocked expression, "and you're right to be worried. If she's anything like my wife and her sister, you're won't know what hit you until it's too late."  
  
___________  
  
Author's Notes: Okay - I had three chapters almost completely finished, just minor tweaking, and I somehow managed to delete them or lose them or something. So, sorry this is a day later than originally planned, but what's a girl to do? I can't write 24/7. Hope you all like this chapter. 


	26. BEDTIME STORIES

XXVI - BEDTIME STORIES  
  
"I want all these tools," Grissom stated unequivocally, smiling grimly when Sara tried not to flinch at the site of the various blades, knives and scrappers arrayed around the butcher's room.  
  
"Right on it," she muttered, turning to Catherine with a weary look, "this is going to be fun."  
  
"Langdon, how much of this was here when you interviewed Mr. Winters about Eric?"  
  
"This room was here. The tools too. I know there were meat hooks, but have no idea how many. The drainage area over there is new."  
  
"You said you never got a tour of the icehouse, so we'll head over there in a few minutes. Is the smokehouse nearby?"  
  
"If memory serves correctly, sir, it should be right next door. As I said, they were just pouring the foundation."  
  
Grissom turned to Brass. "Are we going to be getting the radar - I want to sweep the foundation in the smokehouse for young Eric."  
  
Brass nodded, "On it's way."  
  
"Good. Warrick and Nick are headed over too. Cath - Sara, when you're finished collecting the tools, take them back to the lab with the rest of the stuff you've collected and start testing them with Greg," he turned towards Enoch, eyes narrowing. "I understand you're a professional tanner, Mr. Winters. Care to show us where you keep your tools?"  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Grissom - we're here. Where do you want us to start?" Nick's chipper tone invaded the small tanning room, causing Grissom to look up from his perusal of the thin blades before him.  
  
"Nick. Warrick -" he nodded to the two men, "the radar scanner just arrived a couple of minutes ago. You've got experience using it, Nick, so I want you two to start in the smokehouse, see if you find anything in the foundation. Move outwards from there."  
  
"Sure thing, boss." Warrick drawled. He turned to look at Enoch, a hard smile crossing his face, "Mr. Winters."  
  
Enoch scowled at him, but didn't respond.  
  
"Did you two talk to Sara and Catherine on your way through?" Grissom asked suddenly.  
  
"Yeah - they were just finishing with the tool collection. They're heading back to the lab in about 10 minutes or so," Nick responded.  
  
"On your way to the smokehouse, could you tell them to come and get these tools as well? I'll keep collecting them, and we'll join you in bit."  
  
"Not a problem," Nick turned to Warrick. "You ever seen one of these resonance machines in action yet? They're pretty interesting. If you pay close attention, I might let you push it for awhile."  
  
Warrick smiled at the gentle teasing, "That's grunt work - you're area man."  
  
* * * * *  
  
The ringing of Greg's phone caught him by surprise. It was so rare anyone called him at work, it took him a few minutes to figure out the Charlie Brown theme song was coming from his cell.  
  
"Yello - Greg here," he answered as he picked it up. "Hey, Alli! What are you doing calling me at -" he checked out his watch "-2:30 am in the morning?"  
  
He moved down to the lounge as he listened to her chatter, smiling as he grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. "Yeah, I understand all about insomnia. Being a chronic sufferer myself - well, not lately," his tone was wry, and he shook his head, knowing she couldn't see his sudden frown. "Maybe it's because I'm not drinking 30 cups of coffee a day anymore."  
  
He held the phone away from his ear slightly, at her sudden squawk, "Thirty cups of coffee a day? Were you trying to give yourself a heart attack?" The sudden uncomfortable silence from her end of the phone was deafening. "Oh my God, Greg - I shouldn't have said that."  
  
"Common expression," Greg shrugged, trying to keep his voice light. "So, if it's not too personal, what do you normally do when you can't sleep?"  
  
"I paint, or I sketch. I'm sketching right now, as we're talking."  
  
"Really? What?"  
  
"I'm practicing my hands."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Hands. They're the hardest part of the human body to draw, I think. Poorly drawn hands can destroy a piece. Hands are one of the first things I look at when I meet someone, because everyone's are different."  
  
"That's interesting. Did you - uh - did you look at my hands?"  
  
"Among other things," Alli giggled. "You've got musical hands. I thought that even before I saw your drum kit at your apartment. They're strong hands; but lyrical in their movements. You use them when you talk, but not wildly - they're not flashy, but they are intelligent. Your fingers are long and tapered; capable." She paused suddenly, "I sound like an idiot."  
  
Greg smiled into the receiver, "No, you sound like an artist. I like the way you describe things." He sighed as he sank into the small two-seater in the lounge, enjoying just listening to her breathing on the other end of the line.  
  
"Are you busy tonight?" she asked suddenly.  
  
"No, not really. Although that will change. Grissom has everyone collecting evidence down at some farm, and he told me before he left to expect a deluge. When the get back, I suspect I'll be up to my eyeballs in DNA and pig blood."  
  
"Ick. Don't say anymore, or I will never get to sleep."  
  
"You nervous about starting your new job?"  
  
"Maybe a little. But I still have a whole day before I need to go in. I think I'm just excited about moving. I've been thinking about sleeping under the stars, and I keep wishing I was there now, watching them sway in the air moved by the ceiling fan."  
  
"They are a great cure for insomnia," he admitted, "there's something very relaxing about them." He tried not to smile as he imagined Alli in his apartment, lying in his bed, watching stars.  
  
"I'm really grateful, Greg."  
  
"No need."  
  
A comfortable silence fell between them, before Alli's soft voice broke into his thoughts again, "Would you like to go out for breakfast with me this morning? I could come and get you." Her voice sounded oddly tentative; heart-breakingly young and yet wildly seductive at the same time. Greg smiled.  
  
"Breakfast. To make up for the Wendy's take-out for dinner?"  
  
"No. Just because."  
  
"Should I ask your uncle to join us?"  
  
"You think we need a chaperone for breakfast?"  
  
"Do we?"  
  
Her soft laugh made him smile, "You're a bad boy, Greg. Very bad."  
  
"If only you knew," Greg whispered back. "If we're going to go out for breakfast, you better get to sleep. I don't want you to pass out into a plateful of pancakes of anything."  
  
He heard Alli's answering sigh, "I don't want to say goodbye yet. Will you tell me a story?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"A story. What was your favorite story when you were a kid? Tell me."  
  
Greg smiled. "Okay. You ever hear the story of the Happy Prince, by Oscar Wilde? No? Well, picture this: the swallows are leaving Eastern Europe for Egypt, as winter is approaching, and it's time for them to head for warmer climates. One swallow has fallen in love with reed, and refuses to leave with the others, starting the long flight south only when he realizes the reed he loves has roots, and will never leave with him."  
  
He smiled at Alli's soft giggle, before continuing, "He stops for the night, taking refuge in a city under a large golden statue of a handsome prince, who has giant sapphires for eyes, and a beautiful ruby in his sword hilt. The swallow is surprised when the statue of the Happy Prince speaks to him, begging him to pluck the ruby from his sword and take it to a young mother he can see who is working day and night, trying to earn enough money to buy food for her sick and starving son. The swallow, who has a tender heart, agrees, but he vows to leave the next day as the wind is turning bitter.  
  
"Of course, the Happy Prince convinces him to stay, telling the swallow that when he was alive, he lived behind the walls of the castle and was happy because he did not understand suffering. Now that he is dead, and placed up on a pedestal, suffering is all he sees and he longs to do something for the people. He convinces the swallow to take first one eye, and then another. When the little swallow vows to stay with the Prince forever and look after him since he is now blind, he becomes the prince's eyes. Day by day, the swallow - at the prince's urging - strips off the gold covering the Happy Prince and distributes it to the poor around the city, and the children become happy. Soon, all that's left is the iron form of the prince, now ugly without his decorations.  
  
"When the last of the gold is taken, the little swallow tries to fly to the lips of the Happy Prince to kiss him, as he knows he is dying from exposure, but he cannot make it. Instead, he whispers goodbye before he falls to the feet of the statue, dead. From the empty eyes of the statue, two tears fall, and the lead heart deep within cracks in two.  
  
"When winter is almost finished, and spring is returning, the body of the little swallow is found underneath the statue by the men who have come to tear it down. Now that the Happy Prince is no longer beautiful, the people of the city do not want to look at him anymore. The swallow is thrown into a dust heap, and the Happy Prince is smelted down for his iron. The only part about him that does not melt is his broken lead heart, which is tossed on the same dust heap as the dead swallow.  
  
"Later that same day, God calls an angel to his side. 'Angel', he says, 'I want you to go to that city, and bring me the two most precious items you can find there.' The angel eagerly departs, and returns rather quickly with the body of the dead sparrow and the broken heart of the Happy Prince.  
  
"'Angel,' God says, 'you have chosen well. For in my beautiful gardens, this little swallow will sing forever more, and the Happy Prince will praise me.'"  
  
Silence, just the sound of breathing on the other end of the line. "Alli, are you still awake?" Greg whispered.  
  
"Yes, I'm still here," her voice was soft, husky with emotion. "That was a great story. I'll have to read it someday. Was it really your favorite when you were little?"  
  
"Yeah. It really was."  
  
Greg could feel Alli's smile on the other end of the phone, "Are you going to go to sleep now?"  
  
"I'll go to sleep and dream of the Happy Prince," she murmured, suddenly yawning. "When should I be there to pick you up for breakfast?"  
  
"Eight. Is that too early?"  
  
"No. Only five more hours. Goodnight, Greg."  
  
"Goodnight, Alli."  
  
________  
  
Author's Note: Okay, I'm starting to get back on track here. Sorry for the delay, but it's really hard to reconcile yourself to losing a lot of work because you were to darn stupid to back-up! Look for the next chapter within the next day or so! 


	27. TANNING

XXVII - TANNING  
  
"Whoa, whoa Nick! I think we've got something," Warrick was looking at the green image flickering on the small display, his evening white teeth flashing as he shot a grin at Nick. "Looks like a foot. Shift over to the left a little and move up a few inches."  
  
Nick did as he was told, the large mower-like machine rolling evenly over the concrete foundation of the smokehouse. "Well?" he demanded.  
  
"We've got a body for sure."  
  
Nick grinned, "Let's hope it's what we need to nail Enoch. Grissom and Brass are still in the tanning room. You want to go tell them, or shall I?"  
  
"I will. I want to see the look on Enoch's face when he hears the news."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Greg's going to have a field day with all this stuff," Catherine muttered to herself as she methodically loaded the Tahoe. On top of the DNA samples they had taken earlier from the commune residents not yet in custody, between her and Sara they had gathered every single implement in the small butchering room. Grissom had bagged almost as many blades and scrappers from the tannery. Sara had stoically disregarded the blood and the more gruesome aspects of the tools they were collecting, and had barely flinched when Grissom had also handed them several vials of pig's blood a few minutes ago.  
  
"We need to test this against the pig's blood from Lifestyles," he had instructed, "and see if these piglets are related to the blood donor."  
  
She and Sara had been gathering the last of the tannery tools when Warrick had walked in. "We've found a body in the foundation of the smokehouse," he had grinned when Enoch's glare had faltered slightly.  
  
Grissom had merely nodded, "I suspected as much. Officer Langdon," he added this almost as an afterthought, "you keep excellent notes. So, we're going to have to dig him out. Let's measure off the area and get to work, gentlemen. Cath - Sara - back to the lab. Get those samples running, find out about the pig blood and call me with anything that pops up."  
  
"Sure thing, Grissom," Sara looked at her watch and sighed, "I guess that means we'll be pulling doubles."  
  
Grissom nodded, "Everyone except Greg. He's been there all night. Ask him to get the samples running, but send him home at the regular time. He's doing to well for a setback now."  
  
"Understood. He won't want to go, though," Catherine added.  
  
"And I don't want him out for weeks because we've worked him too hard, too soon."  
  
"Listen Grissom, why don't I head back too?" Brass interrupted, "I'd like to talk to Michael - the butcher. I'll leave O'Reilly and his men here, and bring Officer Langdon with me to sit in on the interview. And I think, Mr. Winters, you're coming with us."  
  
"Fine. So - we all know what we're doing?" Grissom looked at his team, eyebrow cocked, as he listened to the various responses. "Good. C'mon Warrick, we got a body to retrieve."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Greg was semi-dozing in the lounge when the click-click-click of Catherine's heels and the soft tones of Sara's voice interrupted the silence. He had been replaying the phone conversation with Alli over in his mind, remembering her sleepy voice describing his hands, and wondering if she had ever fallen asleep. Pushing himself groggily to his feet, he ran a hand through his hair and smiled at the women when they entered the break room.  
  
"Hey - you're back. What have you got for me?"  
  
"Greg, you are going to be in DNA heaven," Sara greeted him. "We have scrapers, knives, bone cutters, hack saws - more pig blood," she grimaced at this last part, "and Nick, Gris and Warrick are digging a DB out of cement as we speak."  
  
"Speaking of which, I'm going to go and re-read the report on our suspected DB. Maybe I can get things organized enough that we'll have dental records here by the time they bring him in. The sooner we can confirm foundation man is Eric, the sooner we can hopefully arrest Enoch and send these cases to the DA," Catherine smiled at Sara, before turning to Greg. "Grissom gave me strict instructions to send you home at 8:00 - no doubles for you, so get cracking!"  
  
Greg mock saluted her, "Yes ma'am! Sara, you helping me or -"  
  
"Helping you. Cath - you going to sit in with Brass and Langdon when they talk to butcher boy?"  
  
"I've already told Brass to page me when they're ready to start."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Greg was singing to himself as he started the DNA testing on the pig blood -  
  
"Sometimes late when things are real  
  
And people share the gift of gab between themselves  
  
Some are quick to take the bait  
  
And catch the perfect prize that waits among the shelves  
  
But Oz never did give nothing to the Tin Man  
  
That he didn't, didn't already have  
  
And cause never was the reason for the evening  
  
Or the tropic of Sir Galahad -  
  
So please believe in me  
  
When I say I'm spinning round, round, round, round  
  
Smoke glass stain bright color  
  
Image going down, down, down, down  
  
Soapsuds green like bubbles  
  
Oh, Oz never did give nothing to the Tin Man  
  
That he didn't, didn't already have  
  
And Cause never was the reason for the evening  
  
Or the tropic of Sir Galahad"  
  
He stopped singing when he noticed Sara ginning at him. "What?"  
  
"Isn't America a little mellow for you?"  
  
Greg tried to frown at her, but gave up and grinned back, "I can be mellow. I'm getting more and more in touch with my mellowness every day."  
  
She snorted, "Right. You are multi-faceted, Greg."  
  
"Just like a diamond," he agreed. "Seriously though, I only listen to alternative punk metal here because I like to tweak Grissom. I actual have a vast repertoire of musical interests." Greg walked over to Sara and looked at the long slim blade she was carefully swabbing. "Looks like you're getting some good swabs."  
  
"Sounds so rude when you say it that way," Sara agreed, "but yeah."  
  
"Can I ask you something, Sara?" Greg's voice was tentative, and he went back to his samples so he didn't have to look at her, "You and Nick were friends for a long time. When did you realize you were interested in him?"  
  
"It just happened. He was having a hard time with the murder of that little boy in the desert - Timmy Watson. We talked, and it was just there. I'd like to be able to say I always knew, but I didn't - one day, we were friends and the next something so much more," she smiled. "I don't know if I would have been open to a relationship with him sooner though, so it worked. Why do you ask?"  
  
Greg shrugged, "I'm just trying to figure it out. Not you and Nick in particular - just relationships."  
  
"You like Alli," Sara stated this baldly, amused when Greg flushed. "You don't have to answer me, 'cuz it's fairly obvious. I think it's great, Greg. Especially if it means you're happier. I know this has been hard on you - I cannot even begin to imagine what you're going through - but it doesn't make you less of a person. It's nice to see you really smiling again, and singing again. Now, if we could only get the obnoxious music back in the lab I'll KNOW you're really on the road to recovery and not just faking it to keep the rest of us from worrying."  
  
"I am getting better, Sara," Greg agreed. "I'm still going to have my moments, but I will survive. And it's because of you guys. So, if loud music is all it would take to convince you, are you open to some classic Violent Femmes? It's the only CD I have in the lab right now."  
  
"Bring it on, Greg, bring it on!"  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Cath, you ready?" Brass stuck his head in the door to Catherine's office, smiling slightly when she jerked her head up from the report she'd been reading.  
  
"Michael?" she asked.  
  
"Absolutely. We have Enoch in a holding cell, and Michael in room one with Langdon. I've spoken with the DA - she says she'll take the death sentence off the table if he'll roll on Enoch. He's the guy we want."  
  
Catherine nodded as she stood up, "I'm with that program. So, what's the plan?"  
  
"Well, we're going to officially charge him with the murders at Lifestyles, and the desert murders or the couple. I need to pop in on Greg and see if we got any DNA match from the pigs' blood to the piglets. The tighter we can tie this guy up, the better chance we have at getting something from him. Right now, we have no physical evidence to tie Enoch to any of this, so we really need something."  
  
"What about the other guy that Enoch was supposedly training in the fine art of tanning hides? Should we speak to him?"  
  
Brass grimaced, "Don't worry - we will be. We don't have as much on him as this guy though, so I think he's the one we get the ball rolling with."  
  
He and Catherine walked down the hallway, the sounds of music getting progressively louder as they approached the lab. Brass smiled at Catherine when he saw Greg's head bobbing along to the loud tempo, Sara at a neighboring table, as they ran their respective tests. "Look like Greg's back."  
  
Catherine didn't try to hide her relieved grin when she turned to look at Brass, "Let's hope he's back for good." She opened the door, lyrics assaulting their ears -  
  
*Why can't I get just one kiss  
  
why can't I get just one kiss  
  
believe me there'd be something that I wouldn't miss  
  
but I look at your pants and I need I need a kiss  
  
why can't I get just one screw  
  
why can't I get just one screw  
  
believe me I know what to do  
  
but something won't let me make love to you  
  
why can't I get just one -*  
  
"Greg!" Catherine hollered, laughing at the expression on Brass' face as he registered the lyrics, "do you mind turning it down a bit?"  
  
Greg looked at Catherine sheepishly, quickly turning down the volume as he spun to face her and Brass. To his left, Sara grinned, and continued humming along to the music, occasionally singing a verse under her breath. "Sorry Cath, Brass - just listening to some Violent Femmes while I work. What can I do for you?"  
  
"You have anything for us on the pig blood?"  
  
"Should be ready - just let me print it up and check the markers," he quickly printed the results the computer had spewed at him, checking them out before turning to grin at her. "Positive - these little piggies are related to our less illustrious Lifestyles victim. Their mother was the sow."  
  
"And you mean that in the nicest possible way," Sara mumbled under her breath. "Now that you're finished with the pigs, can we get some of these samples running? I know it's a long shot, but if we can match anything to the kids in the desert, Grissom will be really happy."  
  
Catherine took the report from Greg and handed it to Brass. "We're going to talk to Michael now - room one. Thanks Greg. You can turn your music back up if you want 'Add It Up's' a good song."  
  
Greg turned to Sara and grinned as Catherine and Brass exited the lab, "Cool!"  
  
________  
  
Author's Note: Believe it or not, an end is in sight. Thanks for your patience! 


	28. TURNCOAT

XXVIII - TURNCOAT  
  
"This seem familiar, Nicky?" Grissom muttered. He, Nick and Warrick had supervised the removal of a large part of the smokehouse floor, watching with interest and the slightest hint of anxiety as the block was lifted and moved out onto a waiting flatbed.  
  
"Just like a jar of pickles," Nick agreed. "So, we get him down to the lab, crack open the cement and see if we found our man Eric?"  
  
"That's the idea," Warrick agreed.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Michael's lawyer glared tiredly at Brass as he and Catherine entered the interview room.  
  
"Couldn't this have waited until after breakfast?" he murmured, his expression dour. "This smacks of harassment."  
  
Brass smiled grimly, "Buddy, you don't know harassment. Let's just cut to the chase, shall we? Like you, I want to eat breakfast this morning." He grunted as he sat down from the large man, indicating with a flick of his hands to his side, "and you remember Catherine Willows, CSI III? We're also being joined this morning by Officer Langdon. You may remember him from an investigation he was at the commune for about 18 months ago - looking for Scotty's friend, Eric?"  
  
When Michael's eyes widened slightly at this, Brass sighed in satisfaction. "So Michael, this is what we know. We know you were at Lifestyles when the murders took place, we know you took Scottie with you, we know you were involved in the murder of those two kids out in the desert, and we know the pig blood at Lifestyles is from a pig butchered at the commune - probably by you."  
  
Beside Brass, Catherine was grinning. When he finished speaking, she looked at Michael expectantly, waiting for his reply. When it came, it was brief and to the point.  
  
"So?"  
  
Officer Langdon jerked in his seat, and looked at the man in disbelief. Catherine just grinned wider.  
  
"See Brass, I told you he wouldn't care," she said, before turning a waspish smile at the man. "We've got enough to ask for - and get - the death penalty. We have your fingerprints, shoe prints - tools. We can match the pig blood to the piglets currently in your barn, because she was the mother. We have an eyewitness who says you were the last person seen with Scotty. SO, you're going down Michael. I told Brass you wouldn't be interested in a deal."  
  
Michael glared at her, but she noticed the thin sheen of sweat across his hairline and the sudden tight grip on the chair.  
  
"Do you want to die, Michael?" Brass asked, "I know they say lethal injection is painless, but frankly - I've never believed that."  
  
Off to Michael's side, his lawyer suddenly interrupted, "I came here to listen to your offer. Instead of trying to intimidate my client just spit it out."  
  
Brass smiled tightly, "We'll take the death penalty off the table if your client gives us what we need to arrest Enoch. He's the ringleader in all this."  
  
"DA has already agreed to this," Catherine inserted silkily, "but your client only has about 20 minutes to make the decision. After that, the deals off the table and we'll take it to someone else."  
  
Michael snorted, "Brother Enoch is our spiritual leader. He is our link to God. No one will turn on him."  
  
Brass just grinned, "We have arrested 12 men from the commune, all for murder. And not just any murder - hate crimes. All of them are facing the death penalty. I'm surprised you don't think one of them will want our deal. Life in prison is a whole lot better than death by lethal injection."  
  
Catherine smirked at Langdon across Brass' shoulders, her expression clearly showing the young officer she was enjoying Michael's squirming. When Michael didn't respond to Brass, Brass sighed and stood up.  
  
"Well, you're a more trusting man than I am, Michael. I hope your faith sustains you. Langdon, what was the name of the guy Enoch was training to run the tanning operations at the commune? Considering one of our victims was found with the skin peeled from his hands, I think he's the next person we should talk to."  
  
"Uh. That would be Aaron, sir."  
  
Michael's head shot up, "Aaron?"  
  
"That's what Langdon said, Michael. You have a problem with us talking to Aaron? I thought you said no one would turn on him," Brass' voice was coolly detached, and he arched an eyebrow at the man.  
  
"Speak now, or forever hold your peace Michael," Catherine added, "because, quite frankly, I don't care who takes this deal - I know someone will."  
  
Michael shot a panicky glance at his lawyer, who quickly spoke up, "Let us have a few minutes?"  
  
"Of course," Brass smiled, "Catherine, Langdon - shall we get a coffee from the break room?" He turned back to Michael and his lawyer, "Five minutes, gentlemen. After that, we go to Aaron."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"I've got unidentified male DNA here," Greg grinned at Sara, "pulled it off this blade here. I've already tried matching it against the DNA samples we have from the men at the commune, and it isn't any of them."  
  
"And I've got an easy 3 - 4 dozen more samples for you to run. These tools are disgusting. If I wasn't already a vegetarian, this would be enough to turn me for good," the beeping of her pager made her jump, and she smiled self-consciously when Greg grinned at her. "Nick," she said, looking at message, "they're on their way back with the body."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Alli arrived to pick Greg up for breakfast 20 minutes early. Smiling in anticipation of seeing him again, she quickly parked and headed for the building. She turned when she heard her name being called, smiling when she saw Nick waving at her from the parking lot.  
  
"Hey Alli," he smiled as he jogged up to her, "wasn't expecting to see you here this morning."  
  
"I'm a little early - meeting Greg for breakfast."  
  
"At least he gets to go for breakfast," Nick sighed. "The rest of us are pulling doubles." He pointed to a large Forensics van that was just pulling into the lot. "There's Grissom and Warrick now. We got a man in concrete."  
  
Alli shuddered, "I'd like to say that sounds fascinating, but - it doesn't. At least, not to me."  
  
"You get used to it. So, where are you going for breakfast?"  
  
"I don't know. Hopefully, someplace that has eggs benedict," Alli smiled suddenly, "Want us to bring you something back?"  
  
Nick held open the door to the lobby, motioning Alli inside, "I'd kill for a chilli cheese dog, but since you'll probably end up at IHOP - blueberry pancakes would be nice. If it's not a problem."  
  
"Not at all - besides, I owe you for telling Greg to show me his place. It's a great apartment."  
  
"Yeah. He misses it," Nick ran a rough hand through his short hair, "He says you're giving him a painting; seems pretty excited about it actually."  
  
Alli smiled, "Well, he does like my stuff. I still say I'm getting the better deal though. You've known Greg a long time?"  
  
Nick nodded, "Relatively, I suppose. We've worked together about 2 - 2 ½ years now, but just got to be close within the last month or so. He's like a brother, now."  
  
Alli nodded at this, "He does seem rather close to you all. I suppose with what he's going through, it helps to have good friends around. What's his family think of all this?"  
  
"We're his family," Nick paused in the hallway, turning to look seriously at her. "He's been through a lot, Alli. Some stuff you know about; a lot of stuff you don't. He'll tell you eventually, if you ask." He stopped, considering his words carefully, "I'm glad for you that you've found a place to live, and I can see that you're - interested - in Greg. I know he likes you. But I have to say, as his friend, he can't afford to be hurt right now. So please, don't hurt him."  
  
"Hurting Greg is the last thing on my mind," Alli responded honestly. "I know I've only just met him, but I feel like I've known him forever. Is that strange?"  
  
Nick shrugged, "Personally, no. I felt that way when Sara first came to work here. It was like - at last, you're finally here! What took you so long? - type of thing. So, I understand. The timing could maybe be better, though."  
  
Alli smiled, "You're a nice guy, Nick. I'll try not to hurt him - I just hope he doesn't end up hurting me."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Brass and Catherine were in the breakroom when Nick and Alli walked by. Nick stuck his head in the doorway, "Hey guys. We're back. Griss and Warrick are supervising the unloading of the body now, probably be up soon. Alli's here to take Greg for breakfast - is he in the lab?"  
  
Catherine grinned, "Greg and Sara both - running samples. Grissom already phoned to say he was on his way up - meet here in 5 minutes. We got some news for you all."  
  
Beside her Brass added, "Do we ever!" rather smugly.  
  
"Greg need to be in on this meeting, too?"  
  
Catherine looked at Alli standing out in the hallway and smiled, "He should be - he's been working the case. It won't be long."  
  
"Okay, then. Thanks Cath. I'll go tell them. See you in a bit."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Yo, Greg. You got a visitor!" Nick grinned as he walked into the lab, Alli trailing behind him.  
  
Greg looked up from the fat-scraper he was swabbing and smiled, "Alli - is it breakfast time already?"  
  
Alli shook her head, "I'm early."  
  
"And our presence is requested down in the lounge - apparently, there's some news," Nick added, as he walked over to where Sara was standing, bumping his hip companionably against hers. "What's up?"  
  
"Greg and I have managed to pull human DNA from some of the blood on these tools," she smiled tightly when she said this, "and Greg tested it against our male vic out in the desert."  
  
Nick cocked a questioning eyebrow at her, "Well?"  
  
"Perfect match."  
  
Greg shot a glance at Alli, before turning to Nick, "When you say 'our presence' do you mean me, too?"  
  
Nick shrugged, "Sorry man. If it's any consolation, Cath says it won't take long."  
  
Greg sighed, "Alli -"  
  
"Don't worry, Greg. I'll go visit Uncle Al - hopefully, he's in his office and not the morgue," she grimaced comically when she said this, and Greg heaved a sigh of relief.  
  
"So, I'll catch up with you in his office?"  
  
"That's where I'll be."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Okay, so what have we got?" Grissom strode into the break room, smiling at Catherine, before sweeping a quick gaze over the rest of his team.  
  
Catherine grinned, "Well, since Brass and I have the best news, let's build up shall we? Greg and Sara - you start."  
  
Greg smiled when Sara quickly explained the DNA and blood matches they had found on the tools, adding, "and at the rate we're going for fingerprints, we'll be checking and cross-checking for weeks."  
  
Grissom grunted, "You better not be," before turning back to Cath and Brass. "You already know we found a body in the floor of the smokehouse. We've dug out a slab and brought it back here to retrieve the body - that's where we're headed next. I'm fairly confident it's Eric. What's your big news?"  
  
Catherine turned to Brass and grinned, "You do the honors, Brass."  
  
Brass smiled at her before looking at the rest of the team, letting the silence build until the anticipation was so thick you could cut it with a knife. "Michael - the commune butcher - has agreed to testify against Enoch. I've spoken with ADA Henderson, and we've pressed charges - Enoch is in jail until his bail hearing later today."  
  
Grissom's eyebrows went up at this piece of news, "What did Michael say? Anything beneficial?"  
  
Catherine shrugged, "Enoch was the mastermind behind the various murders. He set up the men into their teams, and sent them on their way. He's the one that told Michael and the other men to take Scotty with them to Lifestyles and kill him there."  
  
"What about the kids in the desert?"  
  
"Apparently, that's not the first time they've parked there. They'd been spotted before, and Enoch had men watching for when they returned. Killing those kids was premeditated."  
  
Nick, Warrick, Sara and Greg all smiled at each other, but Grissom's expression was still grim, "Can he provide us with any evidence - physical evidence - to support this? Because right now, it's just a 'he said, he said' deal. A good defense attorney will rip Michael to shreds - he's the one with the blood on his hands."  
  
Brass frowned, "Henderson thinks we've got a good basis to go on."  
  
"Yeah? Well, I'm not Henderson. Listen, I'm glad he's arrested but we have to find something - anything - something he's written, whatever, because we only get one chance to nail him. If he goes to court and is found innocent, that's it. Double jeopardy."  
  
His words were like a bucket of ice water on the others, and he sighed, rubbing his hands together before gently massaging the bridge of his nose. "Did he say anything about Eric?"  
  
"He said the body in the concrete is Eric's. He also said Enoch is the one who killed him."  
  
"So, maybe we'll find some evidence linking Enoch to Eric's murder, at least. Maybe there's something with the body," Nick's voice sounded hopeful, and Grissom turned to look at him.  
  
"That's our best shot. We'll need fiber evidence or something to physically prove Enoch was involved. He's been smart about keeping his hands clean so far; but we could get lucky. Maybe we'll find something." Grissom's tone was grim.  
  
"In the meantime, he's in jail - and the chances he'll be granted bail are pretty slim, considering the ferocity of the crimes," Catherine interjected. "If we can't find physical evidence, we'll just have to make sure that our new 'witness' won't crack under the pressure and fold."  
  
__________________  
  
Author's Note: Next chapter, breakfast, Warrick and Katie, and - Well, read the next chapter and find out. 


	29. WAFFLES

XXIX - WAFFLES  
  
Greg knocked on Doc Robbins office door, smoothing his hair nervously when he heard a merry "Come in!"  
  
Opening the door, he saw Alli curled up on Doc Robbins small sofa, knees tucked up under her butt, sketching on a stack of computer paper.  
  
"Meeting finished?" she looked at Greg and grinned, dropping the pencil to the side and stretching her fingers as she stood, "That didn't take long."  
  
Greg smiled, "Well, Grissom is always to the point. Where's Doc?"  
  
"He's doing an autopsy - told me to wait for you in here."  
  
"What are you doing?" Greg walked into the office a bit further, craning his neck and trying to see what she had been sketching.  
  
"Uh uh - that's a no no. I had an idea for a painting, and I needed to rough it out a bit before I forgot about it. No peeking - it'll jinx me. You ready to go?"  
  
"Sure - where to?" Greg held the office door open and watched Alli precede him into the hallway.  
  
"Well, I kind of promised Nick I'd bring him back blueberry pancakes for telling me about your apartment, so HOP?" Alli grinned at Greg appealingly.  
  
Greg grinned, "Waffles. I'm down with that."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Warrick!" Brass followed the younger CSI down the hallway, trying to get his attention before he disappeared around the corner with Nick and Grissom. The younger man stopped and turned, smiling slightly as Brass rushed to catch up with him.  
  
"Brass."  
  
"I gotta cut down on the donuts," Brass muttered as he finally caught up to Warrick. "Listen, have you told Katie about the move yet?"  
  
Warrick sighed, "I told her about it, but she doesn't know it's today. I thought I'd talk to her and Nancy when I got home. When are we supposed to be moving her?"  
  
Brass shrugged, "Well, here's the thing. We might not need to after all."  
  
"What?" Warrick's voice raised just the tiniest bit, his surprise evident on his face.  
  
"DA says we have enough to indict Enoch, despite Gil wanting more evidence. Says the Manson case was based on less than this, and look where Manson is. So, he's hesitant to transfer Katie and Nancy to a safe house. Says he could do it if there's a threat to them, or if she's the only witness, but that's not the case anymore, and he wouldn't be able to get the cost approved. We have Michael now, who - frankly - can link Enoch direct to a murder, and a couple of the other guys are talking as well."  
  
Warrick was stunned. "Well - that's great news. There's been too much turmoil in Nancy's life as it is, and she needs some stability."  
  
"You seem to be pretty involved in a short period of time," Brass' voice held no censure, and he smiled when Warrick shifted uncomfortably, "I never suspected you of having 'White Knight Syndrome' - always figured that was Nicky's bag."  
  
"What can I say? There's something about the two of them that gets to me."  
  
"It has nothing to do with the fact the little girl is as cute as a button and has adored you from day one, and that her older sister is a hottie?"  
  
Warrick barked out a laugh, "Brass! Hottie? When did you start picking up the vernacular, man?"  
  
Brass just smiled, "Hey - I'm surrounded by a bunch of young Turks. It's either adapt or die, and I'm no dinosaur. Now, if you don't mind, I have to go talk to Henderson. Good luck with foundation man."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"If we're lucky, we'll have the same affect opening this as we did the last time," Grissom smiled at Nick as he said this, and Nick grinned back.  
  
"Yeah, yeah - body decomposing in concrete leaves a big air pocket, like the victim has been vacuum packed. Let's get to it."  
  
By the time Warrick walked in, 10 minutes later, the foundation was well on it's way to being opened, an even split up each side of the block, and Grissom and Nick were breaking the top half off in sections.  
  
"Yo!" Nick grinned when Warrick stepped beside him, "Trying to get out of the hard work, eh?" He grunted as he hefted a piece of foundation of to the side, his eyes teasing when he looked to his friend.  
  
"Nah - just Brass. Wanted to tell me that Katie and Nancy will no longer be going to a safe house at the state's expense."  
  
"No way, man! Why not?"  
  
"DA is indicting Enoch with what we got. Brass says some of the other men are starting to roll, and Henderson is pretty confident we have a solid case based on circumstantial evidence and their testimony. Says Katie is no longer the only witness."  
  
Grissom slid a piece of foundation to the side, "So, they're going to stay with you?" His voice held a not of caution, and Warrick stared at him intently.  
  
"Yep. If they want to. I know you don't think it's a good idea, Grissom, but I won't be the one to kick them out."  
  
Grissom sighed, "It's not about me or my opinion on this Warrick, it's just - it seems quick. I just don't want you to be taken advantage of."  
  
"Won't happen," Warrick tried to keep the irritation out of his voice, instead reaching to help Nick move another large section of concrete. "I care about them. Right now, they need a friend, and I'm more than happy to fill that role."  
  
"Okay, then. Let's get back to work here. I don't know about you two, but I'd like to get home today."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Have you decided what painting you're giving me yet?" Greg looked at Alli expectantly as he took another bite of his strawberry waffle. She seemed far away this morning, her eyes all soft and unfocused, as she and Greg ate breakfast.  
  
"I thought I'd let you chose," she responded. "I'm looking forward to moving in today."  
  
Greg grinned, "And I bet your cat is excited too. No more garage!"  
  
Alli smiled softly at this, sipping her coffee as she studied Greg. "I really enjoyed talking to you last night - you cured my insomnia."  
  
"Is that your nice way of saying I bored you to tears?"  
  
"No, not at all," Alli flushed slightly at Greg's teasing, "You have a very soothing way about you - very calming."  
  
Greg started laughing, "You need to speak with Grissom and tell him that - he thinks I'm a maniac."  
  
"Why?" Alli was grinning, "You seem very thoughtful to me."  
  
"He caught me dancing around the lab once to Marilyn Manson with a rubber glove on my head. He hates my music and is always telling me to turn it down. He thinks I'm flaky."  
  
"I don't see that at all. He seems like a pretty nice guy to me."  
  
"Oh, he's nice alright," Greg agreed. "He's been different since this - thing - with my heart. I'm just having a hard time getting used to it. I keep waiting for the other shoe to fall."  
  
"You don't trust him?"  
  
Greg shrugged, suddenly uncomfortable, "It's not that I don't trust him. It's just - I find it hard to believe that he cares as much as he implies he does. That any of them do, for that matter."  
  
"Why? Why shouldn't they care about you, Greg?" Alli's expression was suddenly serious, and she leaned towards him intently.  
  
Greg shrugged, "Why should they? I'm just some guy who works in the lab with them. Nick - Sara - Grissom - all of them - I just don't understand sometimes why they care so much when no one else in my life ever did."  
  
"That can't be true, Greg," Alli sounded shocked, "What about your family?"  
  
"No family. Foster child. Got out of the system when I was sixteen."  
  
Alli blinked at this news, and stared at Greg intently, "How many families did you live with?"  
  
Greg shrugged, "Lost count after 8 or so. I never stayed in one place too long, except the last family I was with. I stayed with them for three years."  
  
"And you're telling me that in three years, they never cared about you? You don't have someone live with you for three years and not care about them."  
  
"They were in it for the money. Not for me." Greg's tone was getting progressively more defensive, his eyes shuttering.  
  
"How do you know that? Did they tell you that?"  
  
"Didn't have to. I asked them to adopt me, and they said no," Greg tried to keep the sudden hurt from his voice, but knew he failed when Alli's face turned sympathetic.  
  
"Did you ask them why they wouldn't adopt you?"  
  
"Why would I want to go into the details? They said no, they couldn't. I said fine and I moved out. Went to court and became legally emancipated - declared an adult, and got out of the foster system." Greg knew he sounded bitter, but he couldn't help it. "Can we not talk about this please?"  
  
Alli bit her lip, nibbling worriedly, "What if there were extenuating circumstances? What if there were reasons they couldn't adopt you that you were unaware of?"  
  
Greg snapped, "Listen, Alli. It was a long time ago, and it's over. What do you care what their reasons were for saying no? Frankly, why would they want me? I wasn't their kid. And I wasn't really too interested in listening to their excuses. They said they loved me and they lied. Story of my life."  
  
"Have you spoken to them at all since you left?"  
  
"No." Greg's answer was abrupt. "I'm not talking about this anymore, either. If you want to pursue this conversation, you'll end up talking to yourself."  
  
"Okay, fine. Just let me get this straight - because you were a foster child, you think you never had anyone in your life who cared about you?" Alli's voice was soft and pointed. She winced slightly at Greg's jerky nod, before continuing, "And you find it hard to believe that people would care about you know, even your friends - even Grissom? Despite what they've told you - despite the fact they've taken care of you and supported you since your attack?" Her voice was incredulous, and Greg flushed.  
  
"Listen, I know it's not right for me to think that way. I KNOW it. But I can't help it - call it conditioning, call it what you will, but when you've gone through your entire life and not had anyone care about you it's hard to believe anyone ever will."  
  
"So you build these walls. You hide behind a persona you've created for yourself - whatever it is, and you try not to let yourself care about anyone else because you think they'll never care about you. That's not a good way to live, Greg. Even people who love you will let you down."  
  
Greg had another mouthful of waffle, chewing angrily, "What are you? A shrink?"  
  
Alli's eyes snapped angrily, "I'm a person who hates to see anyone suffering. Especially when I think they put themselves through a lot of unnecessary grief. The family you lived with for three years - you didn't ask them to adopt you, you challenged them - you basically told them to prove they loved you. You said yourself you left them when they said they couldn't do it, but you never found out why they couldn't. How do you know your leaving them didn't hurt them as much as it hurt you? And what are you going to do with your friends? Are you going to force them to prove they care, and when they do something that fails you are you going to walk away from them too?"  
  
"I'm finished." Greg stood abruptly, "I don't need to listen to this." He reached into his back pocket angrily and pulled out some cash, dropping a $20 on the table. "Thanks for breakfast - it's been a treat."  
  
Alli watched him leave, her face pained as she rapidly blinked back tears. She couldn't decide whether to chase after him and apologize for butting in where he obviously didn't want her to, or slap him for being so obtuse. Her heart ached for him, and she imagined what it must have been like for him, as a boy, shuffled from one place to another with no one to call his own. No wonder he was so skeptical of people. He hid it well, but Alli was used to reading people and she saw it. She had seen it from the first - Greg, for all his obvious intelligence and charm, hid a soul-deep insecurity. He thought he was unlovable. She sighed as she ordered blueberry pancakes to go for Nick, and paid the waitress when she brought her the doggy bag. Alli knew she could fall in love with him easily - if she were to be perfectly honest with herself, she was more than halfway there already. But how could someone who believed they had never been loved in their entire life recognize it when it was there in front of him?  
  
Standing quickly, she exited the IHOP and stood momentarily at a loss in the parking lot. She didn't know where Greg had gone to, considering she had been his ride over, and she wondered idly if she started driving slowly if she would spot him. Sighing, she headed to her vehicle.  
  
Greg was sitting on the back bumper, brown eyes anguished, face pale.  
  
Wordlessly she approached him, stopping when she was right in front of him. Looking into his sad eyes, she felt her heart break all over again. "I'm sorry, Greg." her voice was soft, and she smiled when he leaned towards her. Without hesitation she leaned into him and wrapped her arms around him, hands running tenderly up his back as he wrapped his arms around her and squeezed her tightly, burying his face in her neck.  
  
"I don't want to fight with you," he whispered hoarsely, "and I'm sorry for walking out on you like that."  
  
"I shouldn't have pushed you the way I did," she responded, "and I'm sorry. It just - it hurts me that you're so hard on yourself. There are a lot of people around you who care about you, Greg - more than you realize, I think. You just don't want to believe it." Alli realized she was crying, but she didn't really care. "It hurts me that you think so little of yourself."  
  
"It's not that - it's just.." Greg was at a loss for words, "I know they care about me. I'm just - if I start to depend on them too much, what happens when they pull away?"  
  
"Do you honestly think they're going to do that? I've only been in Las Vegas less than a week, and I've seen how much your friends care about you. I even got a warning from Nick today."  
  
Greg sniffed wetly in her neck, "Yeah? What type of warning?"  
  
"He told me not to hurt you. He said you were like his brother, and you've been through enough lately. He's trying to protect you."  
  
"Protect me from you? That's a laugh," Greg tried to tease, "What does he think you're going to do to me?"  
  
Alli shrugged, "Maybe he's afraid I'm going to break your heart."  
  
Greg snorted, "Already broken."  
  
Alli leaned into Greg more, stepping between his knees until her own brushed against the bumper, hands in his hair forcing him to look at her. His eyes were wistful when they met hers, and she sighed again, softly.  
  
"It's not broken, it's just a little rusty. You're not used to having people love you, and you're afraid to love them back. I'm more worried about me, to be honest."  
  
She looked at Greg intently, doing nothing to hide the emotion swimming in her eyes as she delved into his own, "I'm falling in love with you, Greg. It's too quick, it's too soon, I don't know you - but there you have it. So, I'll make you a deal. I'll try not to hurt you if you try not to break my heart."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Well, well, well. What have we here?" Nick was almost chortling when he saw the plastic stuck in the concrete in the hollow around the body in the foundation, quickly grabbing a camera and snapping a couple of shots. Grissom stepped forward, a slight grin sharpening his features as he studied it.  
  
"Looks like someone tried to hide something with the body," he noted.  
  
Nick was cautiously working around the edge of the plastic, slowly and carefully peeling it away from the foundation, finally loosening it enough that he could lift it out. Roughly 10 inches long, it was easy to tell from the shape of the tightly wrapped plastic that Nick was holding a blade of some sort.  
  
"Looks like Enoch tried to hide the murder weapon," Warrick's voice held a grim not of satisfaction, "and he wrapped it in plastic before burying it with the body."  
  
Nick smiled, "Shall I get this to the lab right away? We'll fume it to lock any prints and see what we can lift."  
  
Grissom nodded in agreement, "Enoch might have screwed up."  
  
________  
  
Author's Note: yeah! Thanks for being so patient - things are insane right now with work and all, but I'm plugging away. I'll make a huge effort to get chapter 30 up within the next two days or so. As always, please R&R - tell me if this is working for you all or not. 


	30. SLEEPOVER

XXX - SLEEPOVER  
  
"We don't have a lot to do right now," Grissom walked into the breakroom and glanced at Warrick, who had just poured another coffee. "Nick and I can handle the body identification; Sara's going to run the prints we pulled from the butcher's blade we found with the body. Why don't you go home, Warrick?"  
  
Warrick looked up at Grissom and smiled, "Really?"  
  
"Yeah. I'll buzz you if I need you, but there's no point in all of us pulling doubles. I've already told Catherine to go home. You might want to tell Katie the news."  
  
Warrick grinned, "Thanks, Grissom. I'm beat."  
  
"Make sure you rest, then. You helping move Alli into Greg's old apartment today?"  
  
"That's the plan. You going to be there?"  
  
"Depends on what time I get to leave. Catherine's going - taking Lyndsey. You might want to take Katie and Nancy."  
  
"Will do," Warrick yawned widely, "thanks Griss."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Blueberry pancakes!" Nick practically chortled. The smell had preceded Alli into the lab, and Nick was in heaven. "A girl after my own heart!"  
  
Alli grinned at him, "A promise is a promise - extra syrup on the side, and I brought a double order because I thought you might like to share with Sara."  
  
"You hear that, Sar - food."  
  
Sara rolled her eyes, "Didn't any one ever warn you not to feed the wild animals?" She smiled at Alli before bending back to the task at hand. "And all that sugar? He'll be bouncing off the walls!"  
  
Nick leered at Sara. "Lucky you!" he teased.  
  
Alli started laughing, "Do you two always bicker like this?"  
  
"For them, it's foreplay," Greg interjected. Nick snorted in agreement and winked at Sara, who was trying not to blush. "So - what time are we going to help Alli move into my apartment?"  
  
Nick shrugged, "I don't know who long we'll be here, so - let's say 3:00?"  
  
Greg looked at Alli, who nodded. "Three's good. So, Alli - want us to meet you at Doc Robbins, or do you want to meet us at Nick's?"  
  
Alli shrugged, "I don't know - whatever's easiest. C'mon. I'll take you home."  
  
Nick was already halfway through his pancakes, "See you two later! Sar - if you want some of this, you better get over here. I'm a hungry man."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Vincent sighed in exasperation when Grissom stuck his head in the lab for the fifth time in less than 20 minutes. "Got those results for me yet, Vincent?"  
  
"Grissom, I told you I'd page you. I don't have a lot to work with here, and Ecklie's got me running a ton of samples. You should have made Greg stick around."  
  
"Greg shouldn't even be working yet - he's still recovering from surgery," Grissom returned, trying not to let his exasperation show. It wasn't Vincent's fault that he wasn't half the lab tech Greg was. "Just do your best, okay? I just need confirmation on the blood and the marrow. We can get dental ID to make sure this is the guy we think it is." He looked at his watch, "Got a time frame for me?"  
  
"Another couple of hours," Vincent muttered.  
  
"Okay. If I leave you alone, will you promise to have the results on my desk when shift starts again tonight?"  
  
"Grissom, if you leave me alone for the rest of the day - I'll have it there for you."  
  
"Fine then. I'm heading out."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"I've got a print match," Sara grinned as Grissom walked into the lab. "Enoch was all over this blade."  
  
Grissom smiled, "He screwed up. First murder. Didn't plan it well enough - not like the others. This is good news."  
  
"You got a confirmation on the DNA yet?" Nick asked.  
  
Grissom sighed, "Not yet, but we all know it's Eric. Vincent promised to have the results on my desk later today. I think you two have done enough for now as well - head on out. We'll go over this all tonight."  
  
"You going to talk to Mr. Winters again?"  
  
Grissom nodded grimly, "I want to see the look on his face when he realizes we've nailed him. Brass has him stewing in an isolation cell, so I'm sure Enoch will be in a great mood tonight."  
  
Nick grinned at this, "He's a sick bastard. He deserves whatever he gets."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Warrick took an appreciative sniff when he walked into his apartment - Katie had obviously been cooking, and the aroma of hot coffee, bacon and eggs was almost more than he could take. Warrick was starving.  
  
Sticking his head into the kitchen, he smiled. Nancy was sitting at the kitchen table, still in her pajamas, and Katie was flipping eggs. He realized she was wearing one of his old t-shirts as a nightgown, and it hung almost to her knees. Neither had heard him come in, and Warrick admired the homey scene before him before clearing his throat.  
  
"What - no one's talking to me this morning?"  
  
"Warrick!" Nancy bounced out of her chair and ran to him, "Katie said you weren't coming home until later this morning!"  
  
Warrick smiled and hunkered down to hug the little girl, "That's what I told her when I called earlier - thought I was going to be working late, but my boss told me to come home."  
  
Nancy grinned at him, "I'm coloring. Wanna see?" She pulled on his hand as she led him to the kitchen table, pointing at her artwork. Warrick admired the various crayon drawings she displayed, smiling at Katie when she handed him a plate of bacon and eggs.  
  
"Hi," she smiled at him shyly.  
  
"Hi," he responded. "This looks fantastic - but isn't it yours? You didn't even know I was going to be here."  
  
"I'll make some more," she responded, blushing when he reached over and fingered the frayed color of his shirt, his strong fingers brushing lightly against her neck.  
  
"This looks nice on you," he murmured, "you should wear it every night."  
  
"I didn't have any more clean clothes - I hope you don't mind. I threw all our stuff in the wash this morning."  
  
Warrick grinned, "Why would I mind?" He slid into an empty seat across from Nancy and started eating his breakfast. "I got some good news today."  
  
Katie looked at him over her shoulder as she cracked an egg into the frying pan, "Good news would be nice, for a change."  
  
"We're pretty sure we have Enoch. Brass says you no longer need to go to a safe house."  
  
Nancy looked up from her pictures, "We hafta leave?" She looked like she was going to cry.  
  
"No - not anymore," Warrick responded gently. He looked at Katie, who was just standing there staring at him. "Cat got your tongue?"  
  
"They got Enoch?" her voice wavered a little bit, and her eyes flooded with tears.  
  
Warrick nodded gently, "He's been arrested. Nancy, do you want to color in the living room? I need to talk to your sister privately."  
  
The little girl nodded, "Is it about us leaving?"  
  
Warrick shook his head, "No - I promise, you don't need to leave. I just need to talk to Katie about some - grown-up stuff, 'kay?" He smiled indulgently as Nancy nodded and gathered her crayons and paper, carrying it into the living room carefully. Katie was just finishing her eggs, and Warrick slid a couple of pieces of bacon from his plate to hers, motioning for her to sit down. They ate in silence for a few minutes, before Katie looked up from her plate.  
  
"Do you really want us to stay with you?"  
  
"Where else would you go?" Warrick responded. "You need someone to help you get back on your feet, and I'm offering. I care about you, Katie - you and Nancy. I think you've both had enough upheaval in recent days without having to stress about where you're going to live and how you're going to survive."  
  
Katie hung her head miserably, "Everyone is always taking care of us. I'm grateful, Warrick- but I'm so ashamed. We can't live here indefinitely."  
  
Warrick smiled at her gently, "That's why I think I need a bigger apartment."  
  
When Katie shot a look at him, he grinned, "Katie - what's so wrong with staying here? Enroll Nancy in a normal school - we can do that tomorrow if you want. I've already spoken to the DA about getting the stuff you had to leave behind at the commune. Hell - we might even be able to get some of your money back. In the meantime, regroup here. No pressure.  
  
"What did you do before your parents died? School? Job - what?"  
  
Katie smiled timidly, "I'm an accredited Early Education Specialist - I worked for a daycare center."  
  
"See - if you want to, go back to work doing that. There's tons of daycare centers around Las Vegas. It wouldn't take you long to find a job."  
  
"And you - you - wouldn't mind? If I worked and we stayed here? I'd help with the rent, and the bills. I wouldn't want to be a mooch."  
  
"Why would I mind if you worked? You're an adult. Do what makes you happy. If you feel the need to contribute towards the rent, fine. But wait till you get a job first, and get some money saved."  
  
"But you would need to move into a bigger apartment."  
  
"Planning on doing it anyway. Having you and Nancy with me just gives me the push I need." Warrick reached across the table and took Katie's hand gently in his own. "Look at me Katie."  
  
When she did, he smiled, "I want you to stay with me. I won't beg; but I'll ask. It's up to you - if you feel you can't, then you can't. I won't push you into doing anything you don't want. But I do want you to stay."  
  
Katie covered his hand with her other free one, marveling at this gentle man before her, "We'll stay, then. Thank you, Warrick."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Nick grinned at Sara when they pulled into his parking lot. "Looks like Alli's still here."  
  
"I like her."  
  
"So do I."  
  
"She's good for Greg."  
  
Nick nodded absently as he opened the front door, calling out in a false falsetto, "Honey, we're home!"  
  
D-NA skittered towards Sara as fast as her little legs would carry her, wrapping herself around Sara's ankles and purring loudly. Sara scooped her up happily, "Hey puss-puss! Miss me?"  
  
Alli and Greg were sitting on the sofa, drinking coffee. Greg grinned when he saw them, "I thought you guys had pulled a double?"  
  
Nick shrugged, "Griss let us go early. Vincent can't get the lab work done fast enough, and there was no point in standing around waiting. Is there still some coffee in the pot?"  
  
Greg nodded absently, turning back to the TV. "Hope you don't mind, but I mentioned to Alli you had School House Rocks on DVD and she wanted to see it."  
  
Alli grinned at Nick and Sara, "I loved School House Rocks when I was a kid - `My Hero Zero' was my favorite song when I was 6."  
  
Greg rolled his eyes and smacked her with a throw pillow, "How can I convince you that 'Lolly, Lolly, Lolly Get Your Adverbs Here' is the best one?"  
  
"You can't, Greg - so don't even try."  
  
Sara laughed as she walked into the kitchen, hollering over her shoulder - "As someone just introduced to the wonder of School House Rocks, I'd have to say either 'Three is a Magic Number', 'Verb - That's What's Happening' or 'Dem Bones, Dem Bones, Dem Dry Bones' are the best."  
  
Nick snorted at the last one, "Go figure, eh?" He smiled when Sara handed him a coffee and sank down into the loveseat beside him. "Me? I like them all."  
  
The four watched in silence for a few minutes, before Nick sighed. "I'm tired. Gotta grab some zzz's before Alli makes us slog her stuff to Greg's apartment like the peons we are." He winked at Alli as he stood, before frowning into his coffee cup. "Maybe coffee before bedtime isn't the greatest idea."  
  
"Coffee's always a good idea," Sara rebutted as she held out her hand for Nick to pull her to her feet. "See you guys later."  
  
* * * * *  
  
The ringing of his cell phone woke Warrick up. He had collapsed not long after breakfast, after making Katie promise to wake him up at 2:30 so he could get ready to help Alli move before work. Grumbling, he looked at his watch - it was almost 2:30 now - and answered his phone.  
  
"'Lo?"  
  
"Warrick - that you?" Catherine's chipper voice echoed loudly in his ear. "Did I wake you?"  
  
Warrick grunted, and Catherine started laughing. "Listen, my sister is taking Lyndsey for a sleepover tonight, and Lyndsey asked if she could invite a friend. She wants to know if Nancy would like to have a sleepover with her. Warrick? You listening to me?"  
  
Warrick sighed, "Yeah - Cath. Hold on just a second." Standing, he quickly pulled on a pair of ratty old shorts, "I'll go find Katie."  
  
Catherine chattered about the move as Warrick moved down the hallway. Katie and Nancy were playing Old Maid, and the CD player was playing softly in the background. Warrick smiled at them, "Just a minute, Cath - let me ask. Katie - Catherine wants to know if Nancy would like to have a sleepover with Lyndsey at her sister's house tonight. You catch all that?" he teased.  
  
Nancy was bouncing in her seat, "Please, can I? Please, please, please? I never had a sleepover before?"  
  
Katie bit her lip, "Do you know Catherine's sister?"  
  
Warrick nodded, "Great lady. Lyndsey adores her. Nothing to worry about." At Katie's reluctant nod, he turned back to the phone, "Katie's a little nervous about it, but she says okay. Nancy is bouncing off the walls. How we gonna do this?"  
  
"I'm dropping Lynds off on my way to work, so I can take Nancy with us from Greg's apartment. Greg just called - we're meeting at Nick and Sara's at 3:00."  
  
"'Kay - sounds good. See you soon then."  
  
"Warrick - Grissom wants me to remind you that it's your night off," Cath interjected before Warrick could hang up. "You can thank me later."  
  
_____________ ____________  
  
Author's Note: Busy. Really busy. That's my only excuse. Please R&R - only a bit more to go! 


	31. SHIMMER

XXXI - SHIMMER  
  
Nick heard his doorbell ringing and grinned. Someone was early - it was only 2:45. Rubbing a towel roughly over his still wet hair, he shrugged into a ratty t-shirt and hollered down the hallway "Bet that's Grissom!"  
  
Greg stumbled out of his bedroom and groaned, "Shit. I slept in."  
  
Nick just grinned as he headed towards his front door, "How long did Alli stick around for after Sara and I went to bed?"  
  
Greg shrugged, "Not long - another half hour or so. She wanted to get back to Doc Robbins' and do some last minute packing. Shower free?"  
  
"All yours," Nick responded, opening the door just as Grissom was getting ready to ring the doorbell again. "Hey Griss - sorry for the wait. Greg slept in, I was in the shower and I don't know where Sara is."  
  
"Aren't we all meeting here at 3:00?" Grissom asked, looking at his watch, "or did I get the time wrong?"  
  
"No, man. You're just super punctual and the rest of us are not. Come on in - I'm sure everyone will be here soon enough." Nick turned and motioned Grissom into his house, "Wanna beer?"  
  
"Before work?"  
  
"We don't have to be at work for another five hours. Besides which, it's an unspoken law that when you're moving someone into a new apartment, you need to drink beer. Pizza will follow at Greg's apartment. So - Corona or Coors?"  
  
Grissom shrugged, "Corona."  
  
Nick grinned and handed Grissom a bottle. "Sara sliced the limes earlier - want one?" He handed one to Grissom before he got an answer, and stuck his head back in the fridge, grabbing a Corona for himself as well. "Where's Cath?"  
  
"She'll be here soon. You know her - always running late. Apparently Lyndsey is having a sleepover at her aunt's tonight, and has invited Nancy. Catherine promised to rent some movies."  
  
Grissom slid into a chair at the kitchen table, watching as Nick grabbed some milk before heading to the pantry and grabbing a box of Fruit Loops. He had just poured himself a large bowl when Sara walked in, looking slightly disheveled and holding her kitten.  
  
"Beer and Fruit Loops. That's healthy," she remarked dryly, rolling her eyes at Nick's unrepentant grin. "Hey Grissom."  
  
"Sara. So - this is the kitten I've heard so much about," Grissom looked at the cat and half-smiled. "She's cute."  
  
"Not so much when she bolts out the door and climbs the nearest tree," Sara muttered. "I'm surprised you didn't see me when you drove in."  
  
"You were up a tree?" Greg asked as he wandered into the kitchen.  
  
Sara grunted, "D-Na here made a break for it when I opened the front door to get the paper. Right up the old chestnut tree next door. Good thing I'm an expert tree climber, or she'd still be up there."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Alli had a variety of boxes sitting in the driveway when Greg and his friends arrived, 30 minutes later than they had planned. Greg grinned cheerily at her as he slid out of Nick's truck, "Sorry we're late."  
  
"I'm just glad you're here. I put Goliath in his travel crate, and he's going crazy." The angry yowling emanating from the small cage behind her punctuated her last statement.  
  
"We can put all this stuff in my truck," Nick interjected, looking around him as he walked over to Greg. Alli smiled when she saw that all of Greg's friends had come to help her move.  
  
"I really appreciate everyone coming to help. I wasn't expecting this many people."  
  
Catherine grinned at her, "Greg asked us to help." Her statement said it all, and everyone else merely nodded in agreement. "Lyndsey, stay in the front yard - no going into the back. This isn't going to take long."  
  
Lyndsey nodded happily and ran to Warrick's car, pounding on the passenger window, "Nancy - come out and play tag with me!" The happy laughter of the two little girls filled the front yard as the rest of the CSI's quickly loaded Nick's truck, taking extra care with the canvases. Dr. Robbins had come outside, greeting them cheerily.  
  
"Looks like you have no shortage of helpers," he commented. "Grissom - nice of you to help my favorite niece desert me after less than four days."  
  
"Sorry, Al." Grissom's tone was dry.  
  
"We're not here to help her desert, Doc Robbins," Greg added, "We're here to liberate the cat!"  
  
* * * * *  
  
With so many people involved, the move went quickly. Catherine had happily called her sister to say she was dropping off the girls a little earlier than anticipated; and she and Grissom were headed out for a nice dinner.  
  
Katie had nervously allowed her little sister to head out on her first ever sleepover, after checking several times to make sure Nancy had Warrick's phone number in case she needed anything. Nancy had rolled her eyes at her sisters repeated instructions, and giggled when Warrick had winked at her. Hugging her sister goodbye she had promised to be good, before turning to Warrick and wrapping her tiny arms around his neck.  
  
"Katie might get lonely without me," she told him seriously, "so please take care of her."  
  
Warrick had solemnly promised to do so, hugging Nancy tightly as he bade her goodnight. He understood why Katie was so nervous about this - hell, he was nervous too, and Nancy had only been staying at his place for three days. He was still slightly amazed at the incredible bond he had to this small girl and her sister.  
  
Waving goodbye to the girls as they left, Warrick wrapped a consoling arm around Katie's shoulders. She leaned her head against his shoulder gratefully, sighing almost to herself, "Nancy hasn't been away from me since our parents died."  
  
"She'll be fine," he replied gently. "So - I wonder if they finally decided on what they wanted on the pizzas."  
  
Sara was sitting in the large overstuffed armchair in Greg's living room, Nick sitting on the floor arms draped casually over her knees, but he smiled when Warrick led Katie back into the living room. "We're getting two extra-large pizzas with the works, and a small Veggie pizza for Sara."  
  
"Should be here any minute," Greg added, grinning when the apartment buzzer sounded. "That's them now. Someone - start the movie."  
  
"What are we watching?" Warrick grinned as he tucked his long frame onto the floor, patting beside him for Katie to sit.  
  
Greg grinned as he buzzed the pizza guy up, "In deference to the fact we have girls here, we have opted to avoid the testosterone driven mayhem of 'Con Air', for the deep and gory-with-a-purpose violent rage of 'Reservoir Dogs.'"  
  
* * * * *  
  
No one wanted to go to work that evening. When the movie had finished, good natured groans had filled the air. Warrick and Katie had been the first to leave, Warrick smiling at the good natured ribbing he received from Nick and Greg about his day off. Katie, still a bit of an unknown quantity to the rest of the team, had stood to the side smiling wistfully at their friendly banter.  
  
Sara walked over to her. "They're always like this," she offered, "always teasing each other. You'll get used to it."  
  
"The way they tease each other - it really reminds me of my brother. We were like that - before - before our parents died, before Enoch. Before he died."  
  
Sara's smile turned sympathetic. "Warrick told you we have Enoch, right? At least your brother will have justice. Are you and Nancy going to be staying with him?"  
  
Katie sighed, "He's asked us too, and I don't really have any place else to go right now. He's such a wonderful man, and Nancy adores him. I just - I don't want to take advantage of him. I don't want him to think I'm using him for what he's offering."  
  
Sara nodded, "I can see how you might worry. But Katie - Warrick is an intelligent guy. If he thought you were using him, he wouldn't ask you to stay with him. What else could you do? Do you even have your SIN number? A job lined up? Money for you to live on?"  
  
When Katie shook her head miserably, Sara touched a gentle hand to her arm, "Then let Warrick help you. He's been really - oddly - content this last week, despite everything that's been going on. You and Nancy have managed to get more out of him in a few days than I have in two years. He's good to you, sure. But you're good for him, too."  
  
"Are all his friends as accepting as you are?" Katie whispered, her smile tentative.  
  
"I'm the least accepting," Sara snorted. "But Warrick is my friend, and I want him to be happy. None of us are going to judge you harshly if you stay; none of us will think less of you. You've been through a lot and friends are hard to come by. Warrick is your friend, and by extension so are we. So stay with him."  
  
"He'd have to move. His apartment's too small. There's only one bedroom," Katie offered weakly.  
  
"Right, so where would Nancy sleep?" Sara teased gently, winking as Katie blushed. "I've been telling Warrick he needs a bigger place for months, so moving wouldn't be a bad thing. As a matter of fact - I know the perfect place. Hey, Warrick!"  
  
Warrick looked up from his conversation with Nick, "Yo. What's up?"  
  
"You planning on moving into a bigger place soon?"  
  
Warrick grinned, "That's the plan. Katie tell you she and Nancy are my new roommates?"  
  
"She mentioned it," Sara responded, "And if you're looking for a bigger place, my apartment is still empty. I haven't managed to sublet it yet. It's pretty big."  
  
"Yeah, man," Nick inserted. "Sara's apartment is great - nice size living room, a couple of good size bedrooms, a smaller office that could be a third bedroom -" his eyes clearly said *if you need it*, but he refrained from saying it out loud. "It's perfect."  
  
Warrick looked at Katie, who had flushed a dull red, but was smiling at him anyway. "It is a nice apartment - there's a pool too, right Sara?"  
  
Sara nodded, "Fully staffed, and heated."  
  
"Maybe we should take a look at it. What do you say, Katie?"  
  
"It's up to you, Warrick," Katie demurred, "It would be your apartment."  
  
"No," Warrick retorted gently, "it would be our apartment."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Grissom and Catherine pulled into the parking lot around the same time Nick and Sara arrived. Hoping lightly out of the Tahoe, Catherine waved.  
  
"So - you guys ready. Grissom's been chomping at the bit all day at the thought of nailing Enoch."  
  
Nick grinned, "That's something I'm looking forward to myself. I can't wait to nail him."  
  
"Where's Greg?" Grissom interrupted. "He's alright, right?"  
  
"He's with Alli," Sara responded, rolling her eyes. "She said she needed to come by here anyway to talk to Doc Robbins, and Greg offered to drive in with her. Go figure."  
  
Grissom smiled at that, "She's a nice girl."  
  
"Greg seems to think so," Nick added. "And she seems to like him, so it's all good."  
  
The squeal of tires turning into the parking lot announced Alli and Greg's arrival, and Sara started to laugh, "She even drives like him. So Griss, what's the plan?"  
  
Grissom looked at his watch, "Break room - ten minutes. I'll go find Brass and get the DNA results on our body. Vincent assured me they would be on my desk when shift started."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"I can't get over how quite it is without Nancy here," Warrick offered into the thick silence of his apartment. He and Katie had returned several minutes ago, and had exchanged hardly half a dozen words. Katie seemed nervous and tentative, feelings that Warrick understood. He found himself feeling the same way.  
  
"She does tend to talk your ear off when she's around," Katie agreed softly. She wandered over to his stereo system and looked at his CDs.  
  
"I'd miss the noise if you guys left." Warrick walked over to Katie's side, and grabbed a CD, popping it into the stereo. "So - you wanna dance?"  
  
He placed a hand on her arm gently, smiling at her when she started and shivered, before turning serious eyes to his. "I'd love to dance with you, Warrick."  
  
~Sharing with us what he knows,  
  
shining eyes are big and blue -  
  
and all around him water flows  
  
this world to him is new,  
  
this world to him is new.  
  
To touch a face  
  
To kiss a smile  
  
New eyes see no race  
  
The essence of a child  
  
the essence  
  
He's born to shimmer, he's born to shine.  
  
He's born to radiate -  
  
He's born to live he's born to love  
  
and we'll teach him not to hate.  
  
True love it is a rock  
  
Smoothed over by a stream.  
  
And no ticking of a clock  
  
Truly measures what that means  
  
Truly measures what that means -  
  
And this thing they call our time  
  
I heard a brilliant woman say  
  
She said you know it's crazy  
  
how I want to capture mine -  
  
I think I love this woman's way  
  
I think I love this woman's  
  
Way she shimmers, the way she shines  
  
The way she radiates  
  
The way she lives, the way she loves  
  
The way she never hates.  
  
Sometimes I think of all these things that can surround me,  
  
I know it all as being mine -  
  
But she kisses me and and she wraps herself around me,  
  
She gives me love, she gives me time  
  
Yeah.... and I feel fine.  
  
But time I cannot change,  
  
So here's to looking back.  
  
You know I'd drink a whole bottle of my pride  
  
And I'd toast to change  
  
To keep these demons off my back  
  
To keep these demons off my back  
  
Because I want to shimmer, I want to shine -  
  
I want to radiate.  
  
I want to live, I want to love.  
  
I want to try to learn not to hate -  
  
try not to hate, yeah, yeah -  
  
We're born to shimmer  
  
We're born to shine  
  
We're born to live, we're born to love  
  
We're born to never hate ~  
  
Warrick had started singing along softly, the words of the song rumbling through his chest and vibrating against Katie. She had buried her head under his neck as they danced, and Katie found herself relaxing for the first time since they had returned to Warrick's apartment.  
  
The CD snicked over to another song, this one a bluesy tune Katie didn't recognize, but it didn't really matter. She wasn't really listening to the words anyway. The steady rhythm of Warrick's heart had taken over her senses, the gentle thud of it beneath her ear both soothing and exciting.  
  
His hands had drifted up her back and to her shoulders, squeezing gently, fingers roaming through her hair. The effect was so drugging, Katie sighed. Warrick smiled at her, his gaze electric, as he leaned in and kissed her.  
  
Jim Croce's husky voice filled the living room, and Katie leaned into the kiss eagerly.  
  
~If I could save time in a bottle  
  
The first thing that I'd like to do  
  
Is to save every day  
  
Till Eternity passes away  
  
Just to spend them with you ~  
  
Warrick's lips were soft and gentle against her own, his mouth a wonder. Katie ran her hands up his back, marveling in the feel of the muscles bunching at his shoulders as he pulled her closer.  
  
~ If I could make days last forever  
  
If words could make wishes come true  
  
I'd save every day like a treasure and then,  
  
Again, I would spend them with you  
  
But there never seems to be enough time  
  
To do the things you want to do  
  
Once you find them  
  
I've looked around enough to know  
  
That you're the one I want to go  
  
Through time with. ~  
  
Katie was so petite Warrick could have wrapped his arms around her twice. She reminded him of a fawn, all big eyes and nervous movement, gentle and timid. Warrick could feel her rapid pulse at the base of her neck as he trailed his mouth down her smooth throat to her collarbones. Katie's hands were at his shoulders, urging him on, pulling him closer. Very softly, almost so soft he couldn't hear her over the sound of the music they were still managing to dance to, she heard him whispering his name like a prayer. "Warrick."  
  
~ If I had a box just for wishes  
  
And dreams that had never come true  
  
The box would be empty  
  
Except for the memory  
  
Of how they were answered by you  
  
But there never seems to be enough time  
  
To do the things you want to do  
  
Once you find them  
  
I've looked around enough to know  
  
That you're the one I want to go  
  
Through time with ~  
  
Stumbling slightly, Warrick half pushed / half pulled Katie towards the stereo system, hitting replay on the disc. His eyes were blazing and heavy lidded as he looked at her, smiling slightly at the dazed expression on her face, his thumb running over her swollen lips.  
  
"Katie," he whispered intently, "Katie, look at me. I don't want this to end."  
  
"Neither do I." Her voice was breathless, her eyes bright with desire, "I don't want this to ever end."  
  
"You know this isn't part of our agreement? I want you, but not if you think you have to do this to stay with me."  
  
Katie smiled at him, her expression beatific, "I know that. You're not a man to place conditions. I want you, Warrick. Just you. Only you. Please don't stop."  
  
Standing on her toes, she leaned into him, eyes intent.  
  
Norah Jones was singing ~ Come away with me ~ in the night ~ Come away with me ~  
  
Warrick closed his eyes against the passion engulfing him, before capturing her lips in another searing kiss and pulling her close. *So this is what love is*, he thought to himself. It was the last cohesive thought he had in a long, long time.  
  
_____________________________  
  
Author's Note:  
  
I know I'm posting these chapters slower than normal, but I'm finding it hard to finish this story - mainly because I am enjoying the characters of Alli, Katie and Nancy so much I don't want it to end. However, end it must. Currently, I have no immediate plans to continue this particular series in the near future.  
  
Next chapter: confronting Enoch. Greg and Alli. Sara and Nick. Cath and Grissom.  
  
Songs in this chapter: Shawn Mullins - "Shimmer"; Jim Croce's - "Time in a Bottle"; Norah Jones - "Come Away with Me." 


	32. THE HAPPY PRINCE

XXXII - THE HAPPY PRINCE  
  
"The DNA is a match for Eric Greene," Grissom stated this baldly as he walked into the breakroom.  
  
"You don't sound too happy about that," Nick responded, "considering it's the only actual murder we can link to Enoch Winters."  
  
Grissom sighed, "I know. I'm happy it came back a match. It's just -"  
  
" - a little too much." Grissom looked at Greg when the younger man said this and smiled.  
  
"Exactly."  
  
"So, what now?" Sara asked.  
  
"We talk to him. We tell him we've got him. And we hope to hell it'll be enough." Catherine stood grimly. "I, personally, am going to have nightmares about this guy for a long time. He's another Manson."  
  
Brass broke into the conversation, sticking his head in through the open doorway. "O'Reilly has him in Interview 1. You ready, Grissom?"  
  
Grissom nodded. "Let's keep this short and sweet."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"I feel like we've got front row seats at a huge event!" Greg grinned at Nick, before turning his attention to the one-way mirror looking into Interview Room 1. Enoch Winters was sitting at the table, stoic and unconcerned, feigning indifference to the crime scene photos from Magikal, Lifestyles and the desert murders Brass kept sliding at him.  
  
Across the table from Enoch, Catherine and Grissom watched him closely.  
  
"Nothing to say, Mr. Winters?" Brass asked.  
  
"What do you want me to say. I didn't do any of this."  
  
"No, but you planted the idea."  
  
Enoch shrugged, "I never told any of the men to do this."  
  
Grissom had steepled his fingers together and was tapping his lips absently, "Where did they get the idea to commit these murders then?"  
  
"They are well-versed in God's Word. They worked for Him."  
  
"And you didn't have anything to do with it?" Grissom asked again.  
  
Enoch just looked at him, "No. I wasn't involved."  
  
Grissom smiled at this, "So - you're telling me that God spoke to them, and not to you. Why are you their spiritual leader, if they can hear God without your help?"  
  
"Tsk, tsk, Mr. Grissom. You obviously weren't listening. Open your ears and hear." Enoch responded.  
  
Grissom frowned slightly at this, "If you were saying anything worthwhile, I might do that."  
  
"Have you ever read the Bible, Mr. Grissom?"  
  
"Have you ever read the Bible, Mr. Winters?" Grissom responded. "Especially the New Testament? I'm not in a position to throw stones at anyone. I'm surprised that you think you are."  
  
"I have never stated that I am without sin. As a human being, I am fallible. But God forgives - and God instructs. I am merely a vessel. If the men at the commune where led by God to act on his instructions, through my preachings, who am I to say they were wrong? Under the constitution of this fine nation, I am entitled to freedom of speech - but words alone don't kill. I didn't kill those people."  
  
Brass slid the last photo he had been holding - an 8X 10 graduation photo of a handsome young man - towards Enoch. "Recognize this guy?"  
  
Enoch didn't respond. "We found the body. Eric Greene. But you knew we were going to." Brass' tone was grim, but he smiled anyway, "Your men rolled on you, Enoch, for easier prision sentences. We know all about the 'Hands of Righteousness'. We know that you masterminded the shootings at Magikal and the murders at Lifestyles. We know you approved of the murder of that young couple in the desert. We know you instructed your men to kill Scotty. And we know you yourself killed Eric."  
  
"First murders are never as well thought out," Catherine added. "You got your hands dirty with Eric. Wrapped the murder weapon in plastic and hid it with the body. The plastic preserved your fingerprints."  
  
"We've got you, Enoch. And the DA will be pushing for the death penalty. We don't treat hate crimes lightly in Nevada." Grissom smiled. "An eye for an eye, Enoch. And I don't think God will forgive you."  
  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Is that it?" Greg felt oddly let-down. "It's over?"  
  
Nick smiled at the younger man, and shrugged. "What did you want, Greg? Tears? Winters begging for mercy? He's a cool customer."  
  
"Besides which," Sara inserted, "with everything that's been going on lately, don't you think we've had enough drama? It's good just to know we've got him."  
  
Greg smiled sheepishly, "I know - I watch too much Law & Order. I was expecting - more, somehow. It doesn't seem right that he can mastermind the deaths of that many people and just shrug it all off. He has to be crazy."  
  
Grissom had walked into the room and caught the tail end of the conversation. "He's not crazy; he's a zealot."  
  
"And the difference?"  
  
"The difference will be in how he pleads. Any lawyer worth their salt will try to throw out the insanity defense. Winters won't go for that. If he pleads insanity, he is in essence denying God's Will - or what his version of it is, anyway. He won't deny his own beliefs. The other men will, and they'll get whatever concessions worked out for them by the DA for testifying against Enoch."  
  
"As long as they all go to jail," Greg muttered. "Life imprisonment seems too good for them."  
  
Nick clapped Greg on the back, squeezing his neck, "They'll get what they deserve, sooner or later. There's a special place in hell for people like them."  
  
Grissom smiled at his team. "Good work, everyone. All around."  
  
* * * * *  
  
It was a slow night; anti-climatic. Grissom was working on paperwork when a knock on his office door interrupted him.  
  
"Greg - what can I do for you?"  
  
Greg jerked a thumb at the Big Mouth Billy Bass over Grissom's doorway. "What happened to your singing watch-fish?"  
  
"Batteries." Grissom grunted, waving towards an empty seat. "What do you want?"  
  
Greg shrugged shyly, ignoring the empty chair as he studied Grissom's collection of embalmed creatures. "What happened to Miss Piggy?"  
  
"It's a long story," Grissom smiled. He watched Greg covertly from the corner of his eye as he bent back to the forms he had been filling in. Greg was looking better the last few days. The emptiness in his eyes was receding; his smile flashing more readily to the surface than it had in weeks. Greg picked up a piece of amber with a beetle preserved in it, twisting it this way and that, studying the beetle intently. Sighing, he put it back down on the shelf and turned to Grissom.  
  
"Have you spoken with my Doctor yet?" Greg asked suddenly, "about me getting back out into the field for training?"  
  
"As a matter of fact, I did," Grissom responded. He tried not to smile at the sudden hopeful look on Greg's face, and instead looked back at the paper in his hand. "I was going to come down and talk to you after I got this paperwork finished."  
  
"Did he - can I - " Greg stopped. "Is it good news?"  
  
"Only if you don't mind the extra work being out in the field training will bring you," Grissom replied. "This form here makes it official. As of shift tomorrow, your 'medical leave' - such as it was - is over. You still need to take it easy for a little while -" Grissom raised a hand to forestall anything Greg might have to say, "- but you can start going out again. You'll be working with me a lot. Think you can handle it?"  
  
Greg's smile was huge and wobbly, "Yeah. I can handle it. Thanks Grissom. I don't know - I don't know -"  
  
Grissom rose to his feet and joined the younger man, throwing an arm companionably around his shoulder and squeezing gently. "You're going to be fine, Greg. So, I think I'm about done here." He looked at his watch. "It's 4:00 am. Slow shift. I was thinking of taking everyone out for a really early celebration breakfast in your honor, you think it's too early in the morning to call your girlfriend and invite her to join us?"  
  
Greg grinned, "She's not my girlfriend."  
  
"Not yet," Grissom responded. "Use my phone. I'll round up the rest of them."  
  
* * * * *  
  
They went to Denny's. Not exactly what Grissom had in mind, but it was good enough. Squishing into a big horse-shoe shaped booth, Grissom smiled at his team as they waited for the waitress to come take their orders. Alli had arrived just a few minutes after the rest of them had and had happily squished in beside Greg.  
  
"Anyone call Warrick?" Nick asked suddenly, looking up from his menu. "Doesn't seem right that he's not here with us. It's not everyday Grissom buys breakfast. Maybe I should wake him up and tell him to get his ass down here."  
  
Catherine cocked an eyebrow at him and grinned, "Not a good idea, Nick. It's his night off, remember - I think he and Katie had plans."  
  
"Plans. Right." Nick replied, smirking. "Wouldn't want to interrupt him and his 'plans.'"  
  
Sara rolled her eyes at him, grinning, "You are such a child."  
  
He leered at her, "A child with 'plans' for later." Looking at the menu again, he smiled. "And since I will need fortification, I'm gonna get the hungry man's platter with a side of eggs benedict."  
  
Alli giggled when Sara blushed, leaning closer into Greg and whispering in his ear, "Maybe you should come home with me, and give those two some privacy."  
  
Greg grinned, "Sounds like a plan."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Catherine leaned back in the booth and closed her eyes, yawning. "Tell me we don't have to go back to the office," she muttered.  
  
Nick looked at his watch, "It's 5:30 in the morning. Grissom wouldn't be that cruel, would you Griss?"  
  
"Well, it is a slow night. We haven't even been paged. I guess you may as well all head home. I'll go back to the office and finish a couple of reports."  
  
Brass grunted, "Paperwork can wait. Do it tomorrow."  
  
"Don't let Mobley hear you say that," Catherine snorted. "You know he wants all the t's crossed and i's dotted right away - paperwork and the lack of it emanating from Grissom's office is his biggest gripe."  
  
"Hey now, who's side are you on?"  
  
"You know paperwork isn't your strong suit, Grissom."  
  
"No - but it's yours," Grissom teased. "Want to help me?"  
  
Catherine laughed, "No way."  
  
"Please?"  
  
Catherine slanted a glance at the amused faces of the rest of the team, before rolling her eyes. "Fine. At least if I help, I know it will get done."  
  
Brass smiled, "And everything all works out in the end."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Greg went with Alli back to his - now her - apartment. They had the radio in her car turned up full blast, and had a good natured station war - singing the songs they knew at the top of their lungs - during the drive.  
  
"I've got something for you," Alli suddenly offered, when they climbed out of her car.  
  
Greg grinned, "Really? You got me something? What?"  
  
"Well - I didn't get it. I made it."  
  
"My painting?" Greg asked, "You did a painting for me already?"  
  
Alli started laughing, "No. I haven't done a painting for you yet - it takes longer than a night. It's something I started working on the other night, when we were talking on the phone."  
  
Greg was practically dancing with excitement. "I love surprises," he chortled, hitting the lights in the foyer as they entered his apartment. "Do I get it now?"  
  
"You're an even bigger kid than Nick!"  
  
Greg waggled his eyebrows at her, "You don't know the half of it. Hey, Goliath. How you like you're new digs?"  
  
Alli wandered down the hallway towards the bedroom, "I'll be back in a second. It's in the bedroom."  
  
Greg just grinned and flopped down onto the sofa, muttering under his breath, "Sure I can't join you?" Goliath had jumped up onto his lap, and was purring uncontrollably. Greg tickled the kitten affectionately under his chin, "For such a little guy, you sure have a big purr."  
  
Leaning his head against the back of the sofa, he hummed lightly under his breath. The kitten was kneading his thigh, needle-like claws pricking him incessantly. In the back room, he could hear Alli moving around and he smiled.  
  
"I just finished it tonight," Alli said as she headed back into the living room. She stepped over the back of the sofa and sank down beside Greg, tucking a foot up underneath her as she turned to face him. "I hope you like it."  
  
Greg took the carefully bound artists papers Alli handed him, "What's this?"  
  
Alli shrugged, suddenly nervous, "I made you a book."  
  
"The Happy Prince," Greg read the script on the front cover, and smiled at Alli. Fingering the thick satin ribbon she had loosely tied the pages together with, he flipped open the front page. Jewel-tones of azure and amber, oranges and reds, danced off the page. A swallow flirted with a beautiful reed, and in the distance, windmills twisted lazily in the wind. In a dark calligraphy at the bottom of the page, where the words: 'The swallows are leaving Eastern Europe for Egypt..'  
  
His fingers traced the lettering reverently, feeling the stiffness of the dark Indian ink beneath the pads of his thumb and forefinger. "Is this water-color?"  
  
"Water pencil," she replied softly, "like pencil crayons, but you can apply water to blend the colors where you want it." She reached over and flipped to the next page, watching Greg intently as he studied the image of the happy prince.  
  
"It's me," he whispered, "I'm the Happy Prince."  
  
"I think so," Alli replied. "And I'm the swallow."  
  
Greg felt his eyes burning, "This is the best present anyone ever gave me." He slowly turned through the pages, smiling as he read the story. Each page was beautiful, the pictures vibrant and full of life - even the ones of the broken heart in the dust heap beside the dead swallow. "How can you make a broken heart look so beautiful?"  
  
Alli smiled softly, "It's not really broken. Hearts that love can never be broken; not irretrievably. The Happy Prince just needed someone to love, and someone to love him -" she slid the book from his hands and placed it on the coffee table, before turning back to Greg and touching his face gently - "Just like you."  
  
Greg closed his eyes against her momentarily, "Alli, I -"  
  
"Shh, Greg," she placed a slim finger against his lips, "don't talk. Just feel." Reaching down with her free hand, she took one of his and placed it against her chest. He could feel the steady rhythm of her heart beating through the thin material of her blouse. Letting his hand go, she reached forward and placed her own against his chest, feeling the answering beat of his heart. "I feel your heart, Greg," she whispered. "Can you feel mine, fluttering against your hand like a tiny swallow?"  
  
Greg nodded mutely, opening his eyes and looking at her again. His warm gaze was swimming with emotion, electric and yearning, hopeful and passion- filled. They sat there in silence for what seemed forever, feeling each others hearts beating in tandem. Finally, Greg smiled at her, "Alli?" he whispered, "you wanna go back to my room with me? I'll make you see stars!"  
  
Alli giggled softly as she leaned into Greg and kissed him, "Hey - no fair. That's my pick-up line!"  
  
_______________________________  
  
Author's Note: Okay - I think that's the end, except for maybe an epilogue that I'm sorta playing with. Thanks for your patience - and I hope the ending didn't disappoint anyone. I like it, but I've been agonizing over it for weeks now - literally.  
  
Great big thanks to Jan - you're awesome, and I appreciate you so much! For everyone who has reviewed and sent me emails, telling me what you liked and didn't - thank you. I hope none of you are disappointed. Once the seasonal rush is over, I may pick up this series with a new case file, and continuing exploring the relationships established in this series. 


End file.
